


The Limits of Stars

by chucknovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2015 DCBB, DCBB, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, EXCITING, F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, ahh (:, and my first full length deancas fic, dcbb15, deancas fic, mentions of rape (no actual rape though), this is my first dcbb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 77,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucknovak/pseuds/chucknovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Dean Winchester, it all starts with an oak tree and an amnesiac John Doe lightning strike victim. Over the course of thirty years, natural disasters wreak havoc across the world, of which Dean seems to constantly find himself encountering first hand. With the storms comes Castiel Novak, a mysterious yet hauntingly familiar figure whom Dean finds himself inexplicably drawn to – and the attraction seems to run both ways. The connection is nearly instantaneous. But it soon becomes clear that Castiel isn’t being completely honest with Dean, and that the world wide disasters may not be so natural after all. Spanning across decades and various planes of existence, The Limits of Stars follows Dean’s and Castiel’s journey against the past, present, future, and the possible extinction of the human race.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm really excited for this, because this is my first DCBB ever (: I had tons of fun writing it, so I hope you like it! Also, a huge thanks to the artist who created the beautiful images featured in this work, sonyodabaz ( http://sonyodabaz.tumblr.com/ ). You should all go check out her work, it's awesome! Also a huge thank you to my friend pleuxvoir ( http://pleuxvoir.tumblr.com/ ) who beta'd this fic for me last minute while overseas (you're the best). And, of course, thank you to the founder/creators of the DCBB for making this all possible and making such an awesome community event (:
> 
> And lastly, thank all you guys for reading! I hope you like it (:

**_Thursday, April 13 th, 1995. Lawrence, Kansas._ **

 

The soil gave eagerly beneath Dean’s tires, dampened by the previous night’s rainfall and making the young teen’s trek that much more difficult. Dean pushed forward, knowing his mom was going to be pissed if he was late to school again. The books in his backpack crashed against his lower back as his bike bounced rather gracelessly over a dark, gnarled tree root interrupting the path.

 

Which was strange, as Dean was fairly positive that the day before there had not been a full grown tree next to the helio-something’s – he could never remember the real name. Dean’s mother had always called them Cherry Pies – despite the flowers being purple and not at all resembling cherry pies – and so that was the name he had stuck with. But anyway, he was pretty positive that big ass tree hadn’t been there the day before. Or rather, that big ass tree _root_ , as Dean hadn’t managed to see the tree the root belonged to, but he figured it was safe to assume that if there was a root there was a tree, and it had to be pretty big for its root to stretch that far and be that thick. He was pretty curious the more he thought about it, and he wanted to follow the root to its source, but Dean knew he was going to be late if he delayed even another thirty seconds. _You can go back after school_ , he reminded himself. _A tree that big ain’t gonna get up and walk away in the next eight hours._

 

Then again, if it managed to grow out of nowhere within a span of sixteen hours, who knew where it’d be in eight?

 

He expelled the thought from his mind as he rode through the Clarkes’ back yard, taking caution to not run over Mrs. Clarke’s flowers (again). He pedaled down the still damp asphalt of the dead end road, swinging right onto the main road, Lawrence High School coming into view on his left as his legs pumped with effort.

 

He swerved through the parking lot, skidding to a stop and hopping clumsily off his bike as he came to the bike rack. He heard the bell ring just as he ran up the steps.

 

 

 

 

The day brought with it another tardy on Dean’s record, a sixty-eight on a math quiz, and a surprise vocab quiz he probably got a fifty on in Spanish. His sandwich had also been squished by his books, which had resulted in a pretty disappointing lunch.

 

He’d all but forgotten about the tree until his commute was once again interrupted by its dark, extended root. Dean let out an undignified _oof_ as his bike bumped beneath him, and stuck his foot out to stop the bike and keep himself from swerving into a bush. His eyes trailed over the root, but the tree it belonged to was obscured by other smaller forms of foliage. Dean dismounted his bike, walking it through the trees and bushes, following the large root and cursing under his breath when his clothes got stuck on the branches. _This is stupid_ , he ridiculed himself. _That root’s probably always been there._ But he knew when he emerged into the small clearing that his instincts had been correct, because what had been a clearing of grass the day before was now filled with a gigantic tree – like, national-park-historical-landmark kind of gigantic.

 

The wood was shadowed and dark, but it was a warm darkness, like a winter den lit only by the faint orange glow of a fireplace. Sunlight filtered through the rich green leaves in a kaleidoscopic pattern of shimmering gold, making the organism appear even more otherworldly.

 

“Shit,” Dean whispered as he dropped his bike and approached the behemoth, its branches dropping to the ground and extending toward him from a trunk with a diameter that very possibly surpassed the size of his bathroom. He felt crazy for thinking it, but it felt like there was power emanating from the bark, a tangible force of energy glowing within the leaves. It was incredibly enticing, inviting, like coming home to your own bed after a long drive back from an even longer vacation. Gazing upon the tree felt like seeing his mom standing in the doorway of the house with her arms open when he came in from playing outside when he was younger, an embrace ready for him to run into. If Dean were just a little crazier, he might’ve said the tree was calling to him, its branches arms, ready to accept him into their embrace.

 

His fingers carefully ran across the tree’s bark, and it felt much more like a force of nature than just another tree. Dean knew the tree hadn’t been there the day before, he knew its existence was impossible, yet he didn’t question it.

 

He did, however, pull himself away from the tree (if it could even be called that), knowing Mary wouldn’t be happy to hear that Dean had been late again that day, and that spending too much time getting home after school wouldn’t help his cause in the slightest. He dragged his bike back through the shrubbery back to the path before starting home.

 

He groaned internally when he pulled up to his house and saw his mother’s car in the driveway; she was usually home from her four-to-two shift by the time he got home from school, so it wasn’t unusual, but he’d been hoping maybe she’d gone out for groceries so that he’d have more time to properly plan the best way to break the news. Instead he coasted down the driveway, leaning his bike against the garage and bracing himself as he jogged up the back steps and swung open the screen door.

 

Mary was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea with her nose buried in a book. She was still in her pastel, flowered scrubs. She lifted her head as she heard the door close, smiling up at Dean. “Hey there,” she greeted him brightly, pushing her reading glasses to the top of her head, signaling that Dean had her undivided attention. “How was school today?” she asked, turning her body toward her son. He toed off his shoes, leaving them near the door next to Mary’s white sneakers.

 

“It was alright,” he lied, his shoulders hunched as he dropped into his chair next to his mom and set his bag next to him. Mary’s brow scrunched in concern as she took in Dean’s dejected tone and body language.

 

“What’s wrong, honey?” she inquired, getting straight to the point. Dean’s eyes shifted slightly before settling back on the table.

 

“I was late again today,” he admitted shamefully to the rings in their oak dining table after a moment. “…and I got a sixty-eight on my math quiz,” he added before looking up. His mother’s eyes were disappointed, but they were still soft and concerned – Mary’s eyes were never hard, not when she was looking at Dean.

 

“Honey,” she sighed, “you know you can’t keep being late. I know school can be overwhelming-” she smiled then, “and believe me, I know how horrible waking up early can be, but you have to take more responsibility.” Dean nodded solemnly.

 

“I know,” he conceded. “I’m really sorry, mom. It won’t happen again.” Mary pursed her lips.

 

“Can you try to mean it this time?” Dean’s mouth turned downward at that – he hated that his mom was trusting his promises less and less, especially since there was no one to blame except himself.

 

“I’ll try,” he promised. “And I’m sorry about my math grades.” Mary hummed, running her thumb over the side of the ceramic tea cup.

 

“Did you study?” she asked. Dean’s mouth twitched again; he’d tried, but ten minutes of trying had led to him throwing his notebook at the wall.

 

“I tried,” he gritted out. “But it didn’t make any sense. It’s stupid anyway…” he trailed off in a mumble. Mary took his hand on the table and squeezed it reassuringly.

 

“I know it’s hard for you, baby,” she offered comfortingly. “I’m sure if you really want to you can get it. My offer to get you a tutor still stands.” Dean’s lip curled in distaste.

 

“No thank you,” he replied with mild disgust.

 

“I don’t know why you’re so opposed to the idea-”

 

“Because it’s stupid, all right?” Dean retorted in embarrassment. “I’m never gonna need algebra anyway,” he grumbled. “Seriously, when the hell am I gonna need to graph a polynomial function?”

 

“Language,” Mary reprimanded. Dean mumbled a half-hearted apology. “Is English still going well?” Mary asked after a pause, her tone lighter. Dean nodded.

 

“Yeah, English is okay. We just started _Lord of the Flies_ ,” he told her.

 

“Are you liking it so far?” she lit up.

 

“I’m only a chapter in, but I like it so far, yeah,” he nodded.

 

“I’m glad,” she smiled. Mary stood then, taking her cup to the sink.

 

“Hey, any other weird deaths or injuries at the hospital today?” Dean asked, eager to turn the subject away from school and the stresses it brought on.

 

“Well, no one else was struck by lightning in that last twenty-four hours, if that’s what you’re asking,” she answered.

 

“Any more animal attacks?” he prodded further.

 

“No, none of those either.” She paused for a moment before adding, “However, the boy who was struck by lightning did come to enough to be coherent. Poor thing’s got a serious case of amnesia, though.” Mary furrowed her brow the way she did when she was upset, her wide blue eyes darkening with genuine empathy.

 

“Boy? How old is he?” Mary frowned as she leaned against the counter, looking sadly at her son.

 

“He says he’s eighteen,” she informed him. “It’s such a shame – the poor boy doesn’t know where he’s from, or who his family is, and we can’t even get child’s services to help him, since legally he’s an adult.” She sighed wearily. “And he insists his name is Jimmy Novak, but we couldn’t find a James or Jimmy Novak anywhere from around Lawrence who’d be around his age, or who was missing – or at least nothing was found by the time I got off. I stayed nearly an hour overtime, but nothing turned up.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dean offered softly. “That’s tough.” Mary nodded slowly, absently. She always got pretty upset over young, wayward patients, especially when she felt there was more she could do to help but didn’t know what it was, or how to go about it.

 

“It’s just all so strange, everything that’s happened to him and how he’s recovering…” she muttered, trailing off and spacing out. “You should go start your homework,” Mary suggested suddenly, lifting her head to smile sadly at her son. “Sam should be home soon, I’ll make you boys something to eat and bring it up in a little bit.” Dean nodded and grinned gratefully, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and kissing his mom on the cheek before heading up to his room.

 

 

 

 

Dean made sure to get up on time the next morning, showering quickly and waking Sam up on his way back to his room. He started changing once Sam was up, and managed to eat and brush his teeth with time left before he had to leave. He was early enough to sit around and watch TV then catch the bus, but he wanted to ride his bike that day.

 

More specifically, he wanted to see if the tree was still there.

 

Sam was downstairs by the time Dean stuffed the lunch Mary had packed in into his backpack, and he didn’t fail to notice Dean’s promptness. “Why are you ready so early?” the floppy haired almost-twelve-year-old asked. Then after a moment he said, “You were late again yesterday, weren’t you?” Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“I was only like, _two_ minutes late,” he defended himself. “Anyway, I wanna get there early today, so I’m leaving now. You got a key to lock up?”

 

“You’re not gonna wait for the bus?” Sam wondered in confusion.

 

“Nah, I’m gonna, uh, talk to a teacher,” he lied. “Anyway, you got a key?” Sam nodded, his sandy hair falling into his light hazel eyes. “Good. You should really get a haircut, though,” Dean advised. Sam rolled his eyes.

 

“Bye, Dean,” he replied with a healthy heaping of sass. Dean grinned in response.

 

“See ya, Sammy. Have a good day at school, alright?”

 

“Yeah, you too.” Dean saluted him as he left, the screen door slamming itself shut behind him as he mounted his bike.

 

He pedaled down through the few streets between his house and the path, feeling his inexplicable anticipation course through the veins in his arms; he felt like he could feel his blood racing through his arteries, yet at the same time he felt stones in his arms as he got closer to the tree. It was still there. He’d just started on the path, and he hadn’t come across it yet, but he could _feel_ that it was still there. Which was stupid, not to mention crazy, but Dean didn’t mind, not once he came across that familiarly alien root in the path. He let out a breath of a strange sort of relief, rushing to push his bike through to the clearing.

 

And there it stood, the tree in all of its glory. Once again Dean dropped his bike at the edge of the clearing as he approached the giant, his eyes wide with awe. He walked along the length of a branch, wondering what type of tree it was as he ran his fingers reverently over the bark of the tree. He let his hand drop once the branch was at a height above his head. He was close to the trunk then, and he could feel something, something physically palpable that shouldn’t have been. He wanted to get closer, see if what he was feeling was more than wonder and adrenaline, but something told him not to get too close. He was never one to put too much appreciation into nature, but he didn’t want to do anything to disturb or upset the tree or its surroundings – he still had no clue how it was even there. Hell, he didn’t even know if it was actually there or if he was going crazy.

 

And yet, he didn’t want to ask for a second opinion. He didn’t want anyone else seeing this tree. Which he knew was completely unreasonable, as it didn’t belong to anyone to his knowledge, implying it was public property, or nature’s property, or whatever. It certainly didn’t belong to him. Still, he decided to keep it on the down low.

 

He trailed his hand back down the branch as he returned slowly to his bike, his hand dropping to his side as the branch leaned down low to meet the ground. He mounted his bike, giving the tree one last glance before making his way back to the path to resume his routine commute.

 

 

 

 

Dean managed to get through his morning classes with minimal wonderings about the tree, but by the time lunch came around he was rushing to get to his locker and down to the school library. However, his friend Charlie caught him at his locker before he could slip into the library unnoticed. “Hey, man,” Charlie greeted him, her short red curls bouncing around her face. “You ready?”

 

Dean slung his bag over his shoulder and shut his locker, twisting his lock shut as he thought of an excuse. “Actually, I have to go to the library,” he told her, not at all surprised by the curious expression on his friend’s face.

 

“The library? Why?”

 

“Well, I was late again yesterday, and I got a sixty-eight on my math quiz, so my mom wants me to go there at lunch today and study,” he said, happy that he didn’t have to lie too badly – or at least not make _everything_ up. Charlie shot him a sympathetic look.

 

“I could help you, if you want,” she offered. “I mean, I’m not your best option for math help, but I’m good company.” She flashed him a smile that made him grin in return. It made him feel that much guiltier for ditching her for lunch. But they of course had other friends they sat with, so he didn’t let himself get too down about it.

 

“Nah, it’s cool, I should be in the cafeteria by the second half of lunch. You go ahead,” he dismissed her.

 

“Alright, well, have fun,” she conceded teasingly before bounding down the hall toward the cafeteria. Dean smiled after her for a moment before heading for the library. His stomach rumbled lowly in protest of the detour, but Dean’s determined curiosity overpowered his desire to eat.

 

The library was a large space with plenty of tables, most of which were occupied by teachers and students, either solo or in small groups, studying while eating their lunches. Dean set his bag on a chair at an empty desk toward the back before heading into the aisles. As he stared at the various bindings and titles, he realized that he had practically no knowledge of how to navigate the Dewey Decimal System. He meandered around, looking for any signs of books about trees anywhere, extremely relieved to find one of the sections of the next aisle labelled with a helpful “Natural Sciences” sign. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find a generic looking book with the word “TREES” on its spine in all caps. Flipping through it, he saw that there was a decent amount of pictures with a sum of words accompanying each that wasn’t too intimidating. Satisfied, Dean returned to the table, book in hand.

 

He dropped the book on the table, flinching at the unexpectedly loud _thud_ it made, rushing to sit down as a blush flooded his cheeks under the sudden stares of the people around him. He opened the volume up to a random page and, with no clue where to start, decided to flip through the pages until he saw a picture that resembled the tree in the clearing.

 

He eventually came across a picture of a tree similar to the one in the clearing in the “Oak” section of the book. The caption claimed that it was a Southern Live Oak tree (which Dean thought was kind of a dumb name, but it was a pretty cool tree, so maybe it wasn’t so terrible). Dean was about to skim through more of the chapter, when the phrase “ _over 1500 years old_ ” caught his attention. Redirecting his attention back to the small blurb under the picture, he learned that the tree pictured was estimated to be “ _one of the oldest trees in the eastern United States_.” Other pictures of younger trees with the name _Quercus virginiana_ weren’t nearly as impressive.

 

But it was the 1500 year old tree that looked like the one in the clearing.

 

Dean tried to read more about the trees, and he retained something about them representing strength or courage or something along those lines, but his head was swimming slightly. The tree had to have been there before. Clearly, Dean was thinking of a different clearing, and that tree had been right there for upwards of 1500 years – Dean had just failed to notice it.

 

And yet, he knew that wasn’t true. Dean had lived in the same house his entire life – he knew the in’s and out’s of his neighborhood by heart. That clearing was the clearing he and Sammy used to play in on occasional summer days, where they picked flowers for Mary for Mother’s Day, back when they were a lot younger. Dean had been taking that same path to school every day the weather permitted – and even some days when it didn’t – for a year and a half. There was never any tree there, and certainly not a historically old one.

 

He closed the book and placed it on the librarian’s cart before heading for the cafeteria, pushing his wonderings to the back of his mind.

 

 

 

 

Charlie worked at Blockbuster from four to seven on Fridays, so Dean had a few hours to kill before he headed over to her house that night. He took his time pedaling home, reveling in the perfect balance of warmth and breeze that brushed past him as he rode over the uneven, earthy path. The smell of honeysuckle lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the ever-present scent of April rain. Predictably, he felt an energy pulling at him as he got nearer to the tree, and while he’d been eagerly anticipating it, it still took him by surprise. He wanted to just ride past it, but he figured he wasn’t in a rush to get home, so why not?

 

He maneuvered his bike through the small bushes once again, dropping it at the edge of the clearing just as he had the few times before. The tree still stood where it had that morning, and Dean’s breath was once again taken away by the knowledge that it was, somehow, over fifteen hundred years old, and yet  had appeared only days before. He ran his hand along an outstretched branch, this time with less hesitance; for whatever reason, he felt more comfortable than he previously had. He approached the trunk, its strange energy radiating with more force than any of Dean’s previous visits. And yet, it didn’t make him feel like he should back up – instead, he approached the vast trunk, his hand outstretched, palm up and forward as the grass beneath his boots gave way to a bed of twisted roots. Taking a breath and clearing his head, he let his palm slowly rest against the bark of the trunk.

 

He felt like the air was being squeezed out of him for a moment, but the sensation quickly subsided to something much more tranquil and calming – a warmth, almost like an embrace. Which, yeah, probably should have creeped Dean out, but for whatever reason he felt fine. Hell, he felt great. He removed his hand from the tree’s trunk, the pressure within him letting up. He took a breath as he felt the majority of the warmth leave him – however, a trace of it remained. He traced his fingers back down the branch, pausing when the extremity was at the height of his knees.

 

Tentatively, he placed one foot on the branch. When it didn’t bow beneath the weight, he used his hands to steady himself and swung the other foot onto the branch. It only moved slightly underneath him as he stood, hands stretched out to his sides in a search for balance. He took an experimental step farther up the branch, continuing on when it didn’t collapse beneath him. He felt steadier as he walked on, the wood becoming sturdier as he neared the trunk. He didn’t even realize he was a good eight feet off the ground until he reached the trunk. He turned and rested his back against the center of the tree, gazing down at the roots and grass. Normally heights weren’t his thing, and he wouldn’t usually trust a tree branch to not break under his weight, but Dean figured eight feet wasn’t too terrible a fall anyway.

 

He slowly slid down into a seated position, swinging his legs over either side of the branch as he settled in the crook where the trunk extended out into the branch. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, more relaxed than he could ever remember being. It was an alien sensation, but Dean could hardly care.

 

He didn’t do anything for the next thirty or so minutes besides sit in the tree and think, and he couldn’t really recount what he was thinking about, either. But he knew none of it was negative. He wasn’t worrying about his grades, or whether or not Sam was still being bullied (he’d promised Dean multiple times the bullies had stopped about a year before, but he still worried), or if his mom wasn’t spreading herself too thin, or how Charlie was holding up. He wasn’t thinking about his dad, or the fire. He wasn’t thinking about any of that – he was just watching the deep green leaves wave gently in the slight breeze, admiring the way the sun came through the foliage in streaks of gold.

 

 

The only reason he eventually made his way down from the tree was the insistent growling in his stomach. He hopped off the branch, landing rather gracelessly, but on his feet nonetheless. He slung his bag over his shoulder and lifted his bike off the ground, heading home.

 

The energy the tree emanated receded as usual – for a moment. But as soon as Dean was a block from his house, the warm sensation crept back up on him. At first he thought it was just the sun, but then the pull in his chest returned back as well. It was subtle, and Dean reasoned that he very well could’ve been imagining it, but as he got closer to his house it only became stronger. By the time he pulled up his driveway – which was void of Mary’s car, he noticed – the feeling was almost as strong as when he’d been sitting in the tree. He rested his bike against the garage and jogged up the back steps. He could hear the low buzz of the TV coming from the living room, so he figured Sam was home. It was only when Dean pushed the door open that he remembered Sam had robotics club after school on Fridays, and that he usually went over to his friend Andy’s house afterward.

 

Fear climbed into his throat. He tried to be as quiet as possible when he closed the back door, tip toeing over to the knife rack that sat on the kitchen counter. He slid the chef’s knife out, gripping its handle as he slowly approached the archway that led from the kitchen to the living room, his heart pounding and the pulling sensation becoming stronger.

 

He was both terrified and confused when he peered into the living room and saw some guy he didn’t know sitting on his couch watching _Full House_.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn’t seem very dangerous, and he wasn’t stealing anything – he was just sitting there watching Danny Tanner teach one of his daughters a valuable lesson. Still, Dean had no idea who he was, how he got into his house, or why he was there. And he didn’t know why the pull was so strong, and whether or not that guy had something to do with it.

“Hey,” Dean barked out, his voice weaker than he would’ve liked as he held the knife out with quivering hands. The guy whirled around, and the breath was sucked out of Dean for a moment. Because now, not only was he terrified, but he was also looking into the bluest, most intense eyes he’d ever seen. He swallowed thickly before demanding, “Who the fuck are you?” The guy’s hands flew up in a gesture of nonviolence, the intensity of his wide blue eyes heightened by the dark color of his hair.

“Your mother invited me,” he rushed to inform him. “She’s out getting groceries.” Dean lowered the knife slightly. It could’ve been a lie, but there was honesty in the guy’s voice. Honesty, and a strange undercurrent of power. “I’m- I’m Jimmy.”

“The amnesiac kid?” Dean asked, letting the knife hand at his side in one hand. Jimmy nodded.

“They discharged me from the hospital today, and Mary insisted I let her help me before I went off on my own,” he explained. An embarrassed heat rose to Dean’s cheeks with the realization that he’d just threatened a guy with no family, home, job, money, or memory with his mom’s chef’s knife.

“Oh, well… In that case, I’m Dean,” he introduced himself, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh, I’m just gonna… put this away… then…” he trailed off awkwardly, returning to the kitchen to put the knife back. He could feel himself blushing from his ears to his shoulders. Not only had he pointed a knife at a guy with nowhere to go, he’d made himself look like an idiot in front of a guy who was, admittedly, pretty attractive. And yeah, admitting to himself that he found guys attractive as well as girls was still pretty new to Dean, but there was no denying it with that guy – Jimmy. He very well may have been the most gorgeous person he’d ever seen. 

Dean, shame creeping up on him, then reminded himself that the guy had just been released from the hospital, and that he should probably be more focused on being a good host rather than letting his teenage hormones get the best of him.

Bracing himself, he walked back into the living room, leaning against the archway wall. Jimmy was back to watching commercials flash across the screen. “Hey,” Dean called, once again taken aback by the blueness of Jimmy’s gaze when he turned to him. “You want anything to eat? Drink?” he offered. Jimmy smiled softly.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he declined. Dean nodded.

“Right, well, I’m gonna make myself some pizza rolls, so if you change your mind just let me know.” Jimmy nodded, not breaking eye contact. Dean took a step back, tearing his eyes away from the other boy’s as he turned back around. He took the bag out of the freezer, disappointed to find only six pizza rolls left. He dumped them on a plate and stuck them in the microwave anyway, rummaging around the cabinets while they cooked to see if there were any Gushers or Pop-Tarts in the house. He found a singular strawberry Pop-Tart, which he put on small paper plate before taking his pizza rolls out of the microwave and heading into the living room.

Jimmy apparently enjoyed sitting in the dead center of the couch, so there wasn’t much space between them when Dean sat down in the corner of the couch, setting the plate of pizza rolls down on the table to cool. “So why are you watching Full House, anyway?” he asked, receiving a strangely pensive look from Jimmy.

“I suppose just because it was on,” he answered. 

“Well, what else do you like to watch?” Dean asked, grabbing the remote from the table. “We can see if something’s on.”

“Uh,” Jimmy uttered uncomfortably, “I’m not sure what programs I enjoy…” he said. A blush ravaged Dean’s face once again. Way to go, dude, he chastised himself, just go and remind the amnesiac guy he can’t even remember what TV shows he likes.

“I’m sorry, man, I-” he began, but Jimmy just shook his head and smiled at him.

“Don’t be,” he told him. “It was very kind of you to ask. If you have anything you’d like to watch, I’d be more than happy to watch with you.” Dean’s blush didn’t let up, but he managed a flustered grin in Jimmy’s general direction.

“Thanks, man,” he replied before flicking through the channels. He landed on an X-Files rerun and set the remote down. “X-Files sound cool with you?” Dean asked as he settled back into the couch and popped a pizza roll into his mouth.

“It sounds interesting,” Jimmy nodded. 

And so the two of them sat there, watching Scully and Mulder do their thing while Dean ate his pizza rolls and Pop-Tart. Dean wondered if he was the only one who could feel the buzzing energy in the room. He chanced a glance at Jimmy and found him staring at Dean rather intently. Dean’s chest tightened again under the weight of those eyes, and the only thing he could think to do was thrust the plate of pizza rolls in Jimmy’s direction. “You want one?” he asked, flinching internally at how embarrassing he was being. Jimmy tore his eyes from Dean to assess the food product being offered to him. 

“Okay,” he acquiesced finally, albeit with apprehension, picking one from the plate and immediately making the mistake of biting into it without hesitance. However, instead of flinching away from the scalding pizza innards dripping down his chin, his finished chewing and swallowing the bite before saying simply, “I don’t believe I did that correctly.” Dean laughed lightly at that.

“Hold on one sec, let me get you a napkin,” he offered, rising off the couch and heading into the kitchen. When he returned, Jimmy was frowning down at his shirt. “Ah, shit, did it get on your shirt?” Dean asked as he handed him the napkin.

“Yes,” he replied, wiping the sauce and cheese from his face. “Although I don’t see why that calls for such alarm.”

“Well it’ll be uncomfortable, and there’ll be a stain,” Dean rambled. “You could borrow one of my shirts if you want,” he offered. He rushed to add, “I mean, if you want, until your shirt’s clean and everything.” Jimmy considered it for a moment, Dean’s cheek becoming slightly pink again.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be very proper to wear a shirt with a stain on the front,” he finally conceded, looking up at Dean with soft eyes. “It would be very nice if I could borrow a shirt. Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah, uh, no problem,” Dean responded, fumbling over his words. “My room’s upstairs.” Jimmy set the napkin carefully on the plate before standing up and following Dean up the stairs. 

Dean and Mary’s rooms were on either end of the hall, Sam’s room and the bathroom situated at the front and back of the second floor respectively. Dean led Jimmy into his bedroom, suddenly regretting his decision to not follow his mother’s orders to clean his room. “AC/DC cool with you?” Dean asked as he rummaged through his t-shirt drawer and picking out the one that was probably the cleanest. Jimmy’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Is that a clothing brand?” he queried. “Or a fabric?”

“It’s a classic rock band,” Dean explained as he whirled around and held the faded gray shirt in the dark haired boy’s direction.

“Ah,” Jimmy uttered simply, accepting the shirt. He set it on the back of the chair that sat against the wall next to the door, and then he was taking off his shirt, and yep, there was a hot, older guy in Dean’s room without his shirt on, his gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. At first Dean was mesmerized by the sharp angles of Jimmy’s exposed hipbones, the way the skin stretched across them and the way they dipped down drastically, but he was even more awestruck by what he saw when he turned around – and no, he didn’t mean his ass (even though that was pretty nice too). Branching off across his entire back were faint pink scars, staggering across Jimmy’s back like tree roots permanently engraved in his skin.

“Dude,” Dean whispered breathlessly. Jimmy tugged Dean’s shirt on before turning to face him.

“Yes?” Dean gulped, realizing the question he was about to ask was probably extremely invasive and rude.

“Do… those scars on your back…” They’re beautiful, Dean wanted to say. “Do you remember where they came from?” Something flashed behind Jimmy’s eyes, and suddenly the energy that had become more background noise flared in Dean. Jimmy’s jaw clenched, but the fire behind his blue eyes and in Dean’s veins disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

“I assume the lightning,” he answered gruffly. Dean nodded dumbly, feeling like an idiot – of course it was the lightning. But then, Dean could tell there was something else, something Jimmy wasn’t telling him. He also knew better than to pry any further. 

“I can take your shirt down to the laundry room,” Dean offered after a moment of pregnant silence, his cheeks properly flaming. Jimmy nodded then, his soft, amiable demeanor returning.

“That would be much appreciated,” he agreed, allowing Dean to take his soiled, black t-shirt. “Thank you, Dean. You are very kind.” Dean shrugged, but a pleasant warmth spread through his chest, and this time he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with embarrassment or the weird tree mojo.

“It’s really not a big deal,” he assured him, leading him back downstairs. “You can hang out on the couch some more,” Dean told him as he headed farther into the back of the house past the bathroom into the laundry room. He slung Jimmy’s shirt over the edge of the hamper before rejoining him in the living room, just in time to hear the back door open and shut. He hurried past the couch where Jimmy sat into the kitchen to take some of the bags from his mother’s arms.

“Dean,” Mary breather pleasantly. “I take it you met Jimmy?”

“Yeah, we met,” Dean confirmed, helping his mom set the bags down.

“Great!” she exclaimed. “If you’re not busy, I bought the ingredients for you to make spaghetti Bolognese,” she smiled. Dean grinned and rolled his eyes; Mary was the best mom in the world, but the only things she could really make food wise were sandwiches, pie, and soup (the pie and soup were both amazing though, so Dean counted them as five meals each at least). Fortunately, Dean had discovered at an early age that he had a talent for cooking.

“Sure thing,” he agreed. “I’m going over to Charlie’s a little after seven, though,” he informed her. Mary pouted.

“You two have been over at her house for the past month. Why don’t you two hang out over here anymore? I miss seeing her face around the house,” she said as she and her son began putting the groceries away.

“Charlie doesn’t have any little siblings,” Dean reminded her as he opened the fridge and began stocking it, earning a disapproving, motherly look from Mary. “And we don’t wanna disturb your sleep,” he added honestly. Mary’s waking up early meant that she also went to bed fairly early, and Charlie and Dean often got pretty loud, whether they were laughing, playing video games, or arguing over TV shows and movies. Charlie’s aunt had normal hours, which meant they were welcome to make noise into later hours of the night at her house.

“I guess you have a point,” Mary surrendered. “But I don’t want you home any later than eleven tonight, you got that? There’s supposed to be a terrible windstorm starting around one, and I don’t want you getting blown away or hurt.”

“Eleven, got it,” Dean confirmed, putting the last of the groceries away. “Do you think Sam’s gonna be home for dinner?” 

“Who knows,” Mary replied. 

“I’ll double the recipe anyway,” Dean shrugged. “I’ll start cooking in an hour?”

“Sounds good,” Mary agreed. Dean smiled at her before strolling back into the living room. Jimmy was sitting straight up on the couch, squinting in confusion at the television scene. He took a seat next to him once again, his heart thrumming with the energy that pulsed through him its power increasing when Jimmy looked over at him and gave him an awkward yet somehow endearing smile. Dean returned it just as awkwardly before turning his attention to the program flashing across the screen. 

The following hour was spent fidgeting, his attention flitting between the plot of the show and the inexplicable pull that was spreading from his chest down his arms to his fingertips, ever aware of Jimmy’s presence next to him. It was a bit thrilling, but also slightly suffocating. When the episode came to an end at five o’clock, Dean shot up from couch. “I’m gonna go start on dinner,” he told Jimmy as he headed for the kitchen.

“You cook?” Jimmy asked, but it wasn’t judgmental like Dean had come to expect – teenage boys weren’t usually the cooks of their households – if anything, he sounded impressed. Dean fought back a prideful smile.

“Yeah, usually,” he replied, paused in the doorway. Jimmy nodded.

“That’s impressive,” he commented. Dean blushed then, turning into the kitchen to hide his smile. 

“I guess,” he threw over his shoulder casually before immersing himself in the process, gathering the ingredients and pots and pans and all that. He lost himself in the process of boiling the water and stirring the spaghetti whilst simultaneously browning the ground beef in the pan. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a deep, resounding voice behind him. 

“You’re very good at that.” Dean whirled around, finding himself practically pressed against Jimmy. He had to step to the side so he didn’t back up into the hot stove.

“Jesus, dude,” Dean breathed through a nervous laugh, “warn a guy before sneaking up on him like that.” Jimmy frowned.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized earnestly. Dean shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured him, sliding back in front of the stove to continue monitoring the food. Jimmy positioned himself next to Dean, leaning against the counter and watching him with intent interest. Dean blamed the flames of the stove for the heat that flourished across his cheeks and chest. The pull tugged harshly within him as blue eyes bore into him like lasers.

Sam burst in through the back door at that moment, attracting the attention of both older boys. “That smells really good, Dean,” he said as he toed off his shoes.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean replied. Then, remembering that Jimmy and Sam hadn’t met yet, he added, “Sam, this is Jimmy; Jimmy, Sam.” They exchanged formalities, allowing Dean to focus on draining the pasta and starting on the tomato sauce. 

He managed to finish cooking without incident, and Mary came down and instructed Sam to set the table. Jimmy offered to help, but Mary insisted that he was a guest and therefore should sit back and relax. However, he still took the plates from Dean as he loaded them up with food and set them on the table.

Once they were all seated, Dean found himself between his mother and Jimmy, Sam across from him. However, Mary insisted on saying a brief grace before they began eating. Dean snuck a glance at Jimmy to find him smiling softly again. Dean wasn’t one for religion, or saying grace, but he never complained about it, since Mary and Sam seemed to like it. 

He began eating as soon as the “amen” passed his lips, however, he was much more conscious of being neat with his food with Jimmy around for some reason. 

He soon learned that it was, in fact, very stupid to worry about the guy’s opinion of his eating habits, as Jimmy couldn’t even manage to get the spaghetti to stay on the fork. “Dude, you twirl it,” Dean told him, grinning with a strange feeling that felt suspiciously like fondness. Jimmy cocked his head to the side, giving Dean the same squinty-eyed look of confusion he’d given the television earlier.

“Twirl it?” he parroted back.

“Yeah, like this.” Dean then proceeded to exaggeratedly stab a section of his pasta and slowly spun the fork between his fingers, watching Jimmy’s eyes as they followed the motion intently. He then wrapped his lips around the fork and drew it out of his mouth, never tearing his eyes from Jimmy’s. Then, realizing his mother and little brother had just seen what he had done, he tried to cover up the obvious innuendo with humor and terrible table manners. He smiled at Jimmy, cheeks full of spaghetti. “See?” mumbled through the mouthful.

“Dean,” Mary scolded, “don’t talk with food in your mouth, that’s disgusting.” Dean shrunk in on himself slightly, swallowing before offering her a meek apology. However, a grin soon crept back onto his face as he watched Jimmy attempt to replicate Dean’s action with a ridiculous amount of concentration. It took longer than was probably necessary, but he eventually got it. Dean’s chest felt light in a way he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the ever present, otherworldly pull when Jimmy looked to him for approval. All he gave in response was a smile and a nod before returning to his own food, thinking that maybe he could hide the redness of his cheeks in his Bolognese. Mary’s seemingly knowing eyes on him didn’t help. 

Thankfully, he was able to get through the meal without embarrassing himself too horribly. Mary asked Sam and Dean how their days were, Dean gave the usual vague response while Sam rambled animatedly about robotics club and what they had done that day, which had caught Jimmy’s interest. 

Apparently, Jimmy couldn’t remember where he was from, but he remembered everything about physics, or electrical engineering, or whatever it was he and Sam were discussing that Dean knew he was too dumb to understand.

Sam bolted off to do homework as soon as he was done eating, so Dean was left to rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher. It didn’t take long, especially with Jimmy’s help. “You really don’t have to help me with this, you know,” he’d told him, but Jimmy had insisted that he wanted to help.

“You and your family have been excessively kind,” he replied. “If there’s anything I can do in return, even something as simple as helping you with the dishes, I’d be happy to help.” So that’s how they got into a rhythm of Jimmy rinsing off the dishes and handing them to Dean, who placed them in their correct spots in the dishwasher.

It was mostly silent, but the buzz in Dean’s bloodstream was still extremely palpable, and he felt both nervous and excited at the same time for no clear reason at all. “So, do you remember anything you’re interested in?” Dean dared to ask after a minute or two of comfortable yet charged silence.

“I like nature,” Jimmy replied. Then, with a soft, somewhat nostalgic smile, “I love the ocean.” Dean raised his eyebrows.

“You lived near an ocean?” he asked. Jimmy nodded wistfully. “Which coast?” He shrugged distantly.

“I have faint memories of both,” he confessed. “The sun setting over the water in the west, rising over the horizon in the east…” he trailed off, clearly lost in the memories. Dean couldn’t help but stare a little; he had an amazing profile, and Dean was strangely charmed by the look in his eyes. He even noticed how nice his nose was, for Christ’s sake. 

“Dean, honey,” Mary called, entering the room, “are you gonna want a ride to Charlie’s?” Dean ripped his eyes from Jimmy’s face and turned to face his mom, hoping he hadn’t given himself away too horribly; he had no doubt his mother would have no problem with Dean liking guys, but he wasn’t quite comfortable with her knowing just yet. 

“Nah, I’m good with riding my bike,” he assured her.

“Alright,” she conceded after a moment of consideration. “Give her my best. And don’t forget to be back by eleven!”

“Yeah, yeah, eleven, got it,” he assured her. She smiled at him in that way of hers that was simultaneously motherly and amused before heading upstairs, leaving Dean and Jimmy alone once again. Dean shuffled awkwardly as the other boy’s intense blue eyes landed shamelessly upon him. There was barely any space between them, and what space was there was filled by the hum of the refrigerator and the buzz of energy that Dean could feel prickling in the air. It barely registered to Dean that they were simply staring at one another, his lips open absently. Jimmy was the first one to break the silence.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said simply. “It was very good.” Dean blushed at the praise, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks,” he replied, playing with his fingers. “I make that a lot, so I guess all the practice paid off,” he bumbled. Jimmy didn’t say anything; all he did was smile and nod. God, Dean wanted to kiss him. “So, uh, I’m gonna get going. Do you need anything before I go?” he asked.

“I think I’m all right, thank you.” Dean nodded.

“Right. Well, my mom will probably tell you this later, but there are spare pillows and blankets in the closet in the laundry room, and you’re welcome to any food if you get hungry.” Jimmy smiled in a way that was far too fond and familiar for someone he’d just met.

“Thank you again, Dean,” he responded. Dean grinned, fiddling with his hands again.

“No problem,” he assured him. “So, I guess I’ll see you later,” he said awkwardly, making no move to leave.

“Yes,” Jimmy agreed. Then, after a moment of consideration, he added, “Have a nice time at your friend’s house.”

“Thanks, man.” Dean threw him a polite smile as he slowly back toward the door. “So… see ya.”

“Goodbye, Dean,” Jimmy replied, his smile amused with an undercurrent of affection that totally didn’t make Dean’s breath catch as he turned and closed the door behind him.

He was incredibly grateful for the cool breeze that quelled his flaming cheeks as he pedaled toward Charlie’s house. 

 

His conversation with Charlie went just about how he’d expect. 

They were throwing Gushers at each other lazily, each leaning against their respective arms of the couch in Charlie’s aunt’s basement. The credits of the first Star Wars played on the TV in the background when Dean decided to approach the subject. “So there’s this guy staying in my house,” he told her, feigning casualty. Charlie raised an eyebrow with interest.

“Why?” she asked.

“He was in the hospital, and he doesn’t remember anything about himself except his name,” Dean explained. “And he’s eighteen and doesn’t really know where to go or what to do, I guess, so my mom invited him to stay with us until he can sort his shit out.” Charlie nodded.

“What’s his name?”

“Jimmy.”

“Is he cute?” Dean rolled his eyes, laughing at her lightly.

“So I tell you there’s an amnesiac guy staying in my house and all you want to know is if I think he’s cute or not,” he mocked. 

“Well?” she prodded, ignoring him and poking him with her toe. “Is he?”

“Yeah,” Dean conceded. “Yeah, he’s really hot. It’s kind of a problem.”

“Why is it a problem?” she asked, popping a Gusher in her mouth. “I say go for it.” Dean smiled, considering it. The thought made his stomach turn. The energy from the tree had worn off as soon as he was a block away in the direction of Charlie’s house, but there was a new heat within him as he thought of kissing Jimmy. He had really nice lips.

“Maybe I will,” he mused, even though he knew he probably wouldn’t have the balls to be able to follow through.

“It’s worth a shot,” she encouraged. Dean nodded absently, his mind overrun with fantasies (which he realized he should really save until he was alone). He checked the clock, seeing it was nearing 10:45.

“I should probably start heading home,” he said, slightly thrilled at the thought of seeing the eccentric boy with the burning cobalt eyes who was probably asleep on his couch right at that moment. “My mom wants me home by eleven.” Charlie frowned, but lifted her legs from Dean’s and allowed him to stand up. “I’ll see ya later,” he told her, leaning down as he rounded the couch and kissing the top of her head.

“Get home safe,” she called as he ascended the stairs.

The air was crisper than before, and the wind was already a fairly dominant presence. It wasn’t anywhere near dangerous yet, though. It challenged his legs as he pedaled and whipped through the thin sleeves of his flannel, freezing his knuckles as he pushed through the streets.

He felt the energy gradually settle back in as he neared his house. It was a warm, heavy presence in his chest as he stored his bike in the garage and headed up the back steps, the wind working against him as he pulled the door open. He tried to be as quiet as possible when entering, figuring everyone was asleep, but the wind slammed both doors shut. Dean flinched before removing his shoes. The low buzz of the television carried through into the kitchen from the living room. Dean caught himself smiling at the thought of Jimmy falling asleep to late night reruns of sitcoms.

However, as he tiptoed into the living room, he found Jimmy sitting up on the couch, his face illuminated by nothing but the flashing colors of the television screen. His pillow was situated against an arm of the couch, the blankets bundled in his lap. “Still up?” Dean asked quietly. Jimmy looked up, shadows playing across his sharp yet gentle features. He nodded silently, pressing his lips together. Dean approached the couch, watching Jimmy’s hand wring the blanket slightly; he couldn’t help but find it endearing. “You need anything?” Dean asked, perching on the arm of the couch.

“Mary washed my shirt,” he answered. “She said it would be out of the dryer by now.”

“Alright, let’s go get it then,” Dean grinned, his heart racing as he once again led Jimmy to the laundry room. The tile was hard beneath his socked feet, the cold temperature of the floor seeping through the fabric almost imperceptibly. He opened the dryer and pulled out Jimmy’s shirt, which was indeed dry and stain free. “There you go,” he said as he whirled around, finding Jimmy was much closer than he’d been expecting.

“Thank you,” he replied in a deep voice, taking the shirt from Dean’s hands. Electricity passed through Dean’s hand as their fingers brushed, shooting into his wrist. Jimmy didn’t turn his back or put more space between them before removing Dean’s t-shirt from his body. Dean was suddenly very close to Jimmy’s torso. He tried to avert his eyes, but they kept flickering back involuntarily. Jimmy didn’t seem to notice, however, and soon enough he had his shirt on again. Dean met his eyes, neither of them saying a word. Jimmy’s cerulean eyes seemed to glow as they searched Dean’s face, soft white light filtering through the window. “You look beautiful in the moonlight,” Jimmy stated, as though he was talking about the weather. Dean’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide and heart racing. He could smell the other boy from this distance, and it was heady and intoxicating; his head swam with the charges flying between them. He could reach out a hand and press it to Jimmy’s chest with minimal effort. His eyes flickered from Jimmy’s eyes, which seemed full of some hidden meaning, and his lips, which looked unfairly soft.

“Do-” Dean choked out, clearing his throat, “do you wanna kiss me?” he whispered, lifting his eyes tentatively to meet Jimmy’s after a pause. He found conflict laced within the shades of blue, his eyes wide and eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“I’m not sure that would be wise,” he replied. Dean’s heart sank.

“I didn’t ask if you thought it would be wise,” he retorted, “I asked if you wanted to.”

“I think I do,” he admitted after a moment, sounding strangely defeated, eyeing Dean with reverence. “But I have a feeling that what I want to do and what I should do are very different. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” Dean blushed.

“You’re really not that much older than me,” Dean argued. “And... I want to. I wanna kiss you,” he breathed, his words wanting desperately to cling to his throat. “So doesn’t that make it okay?” Jimmy smiled softly.

“I wish it were that simple,” he responded. “But you must understand, Dean, that I have no idea who I am. And I’m going to have to go find answers eventually.” He took a breath before saying quietly, “I don’t know where I’m going next, or when, and I don’t want to do anything irresponsible. I don’t…” His eyes flitted about the room before meeting Dean’s. “I don’t want to start something I can’t finish. Because if I kiss you, I’ll know what that’s like, and then I’ll have to live knowing what it’s like to not kiss you.” Dean was having trouble processing his words. 

“So you’re saying you don’t want to kiss me then ditch me?” he clarified, his confusion slipping toward frustration. Jimmy’s eyes softened as he looked at Dean.

“Yes,” he answered. “For your sake as well as mine, and an assortment of moral reasons.” Dean looked to the floor dejectedly. Then there was a warm palm gently cradling his cheek, making him look up. “This doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t under different circumstances. I just don’t think this is the right time.” Dean did his best not to pout. “You should get some rest now.” Dean could’ve made a sarcastic comment, but his breath was taken away from him as Jimmy’s lips found his cheek, grazing the corner of his mouth with a barely-there sensation. “Thank you again.” He spent another moment smiling at Dean before backing out of the laundry room. Dean took a deep breath to collect himself before taking the shirt he’d lent Jimmy and heading out into the living room.

“Night, man,” he said to the young man who sat on the couch before heading up the stairs.

“And goodnight to you, Dean Winchester,” he heard behind himself. “Rest well.”

Dean shucked off his clothes and fell into bed to find himself wide awake. He felt bone tired and energized at the same time, his mind racing but groggy. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Jimmy was right downstairs, how he’d smelled and how it felt to be so close to him. He felt embarrassed about having been rejected, but he was still buzzing from the feeling of Jimmy’s lips on his skin. He was confused and exhausted, and when he finally fell asleep it was with a mixed up storm of contrasting emotions clouding his mind. He could feel the energy pulsing both around him and within him, simultaneously trying to break out and break in, his body both a hypertonic and hypotonic solution of the foreign sensation. 

His dreams were similar. They were less understandable, sequential stories and more vague feelings, both physical and emotional. He felt warm and constricted, the heat swelling. He was reminded of a blacktop in August, of leaning possibly a bit too far into a camp fire to get the perfect shade of gold on the outside of a marshmallow. It was like a blanket of sun beams, both energizing and relaxing him. It slowly faded away, cooling down like the light breeze of a ceiling fan.

Soon, however, the sensation was no longer cool, but cold. It was desolate, and something was missing.

Dean knew he was gone before he even woke up. 

He knew when his eyes flew open and he was met with a complete absence of any kind of sensation within himself other than concern and confusion. There was no energy pulsing in his wrists, no pull in his chest, no heat in his cheeks. He scrambled to sit up, the wind howling outside his window, tree branches creaking. Dean looked around the darkness of his room, the streaks of moonlight illuminating a piece of notebook paper that was tucked under the corner of his pillow. He unfolded it with shaking hands to reveal a message written in slanted penmanship. 

Dean,  
Thank you for everything you’ve done. I am eternally grateful. Perhaps one day our paths will cross again. Until then, stay well.  
Also, my name isn’t Jimmy Novak. It’s Castiel. 

Dean’s stomach sank like stone. So he was really gone. The rational part of Dean’s mind reminded him that he’d barely known the guy (hell, apparently he hadn’t even known his real name, apparently), but Dean knew what he felt, the energy that pulled within him in Jimmy’s – or rather, Castiel’s presence. And it had been nice – comforting even. Heat crept into the spot right next to his mouth where Castiel had kissed him. Dean got out of bed and headed downstairs.

Mary was in the kitchen dressed for work. The clock read 4:13, and only a single light reflected off of his mother’s golden hair. Her back was to him, but Dean could tell her had was over her mouth. “Mom?” he called softly, tentatively stepping into the room. Her shoulders lifted in surprise.

“Dean,” she breathed, turning to face him with a weak, forced smile. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered. Mary nodded silently, her eyes drifting absently toward the window. They were silent for a moment, sounds that were usually background noise coming into full focus in the empty morning air; the hum of the refrigerator, the whistle of the wind. Finally Dean spoke again. “So… Jimmy’s gone?” he asked. Mary’s mouth tightened. She nodded curtly. Dean’s heart ached for her; caring too much about others was sometimes a problem for his mom.

“I can’t believe he just left in the middle of the night,” she finally said, shaking her head, eyebrows drawn together slightly in confused thought. “I was just watching the news, and it said that the winds were upwards of eighty miles per hour in places.” She stared out the window wearily. “They’re calling them derecho winds. Winds like that caused a huge power outage in Kansas City back in ’82. You were probably too young to remember, but they did a whole lot of damage.” She stayed silent after that, staring out the window with glassy eyes.

“Did he leave a note or anything?” Dean inquired. Mary nodded again. 

“He said he couldn’t keep taking from us when he had nothing to give in return,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I swear, I’ll never understand how people don’t realize that sometimes people aren’t looking for anything in return, sometimes they just genuinely care. It makes you wonder if they just don’t think they’re worth it, or if something happened to them that made them think that way…” she trailed off.

“I think he’ll be okay,” Dean reassured her. And for some reason, he believed it. Sure, he was worried, and confused, but for whatever reason he felt Castiel was going to be all right. Mary shook her head.

“I sure hope so,” she sighed. “The poor boy doesn’t have anything! How is he supposed to-” she cut herself off then, her words choked back. Dean rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her. He was taller than her by then, and she buried her face in her son’s shoulder.

“Shh,” he soothed her, stroking her hair. “It’s gonna be okay.” It had been a while since Dean had comforted his mother like this; he used to do it all the time when he was little. Of course, she wouldn’t usually let him see her cry when he was such a young age, but Dean could see the troubled looks in her eyes when John was late to come home and wouldn’t answer the phone. He would see his mother holding her head in her hands at the kitchen table when John would burst out of the house, slamming the door behind him after he and Mary had been arguing. He saw how empty and distant his mother would get sometimes after John’s death. And every time, he’d be there with a hug and a promise of, “I love you.” 

Presently, Mary trembled slightly in Dean’s arms, her tears leaking onto his shoulder. She pulled back after a moment, taking in a deep breath and wiping her eyes. “How did I raise such a sweet boy?” she asked, her voice shaking minutely as she flashed him a wobbly smile. Dean grinned at her brightly.

“Guess you’re just a great mom,” he replied. Mary’s face softened into unadulterated fondness and love before pulling her son back into an embrace.

“I love you so much, Dean,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have asked for two better sons than you and Sam.”

“I love you too, mom,” Dean uttered back, his voice thick with sudden emotion. 

“Promise to never run off on me and scare me like that?” she asked.

“I promise.” 

 

Dean went back to bed soon after that, but his sleep was fleeting, and he found himself waking up at twenty minute intervals. He usually slept in on Saturdays, but he knew it was pointless by the fifth failed attempt at unconsciousness. He got out of bed, showered, and brushed his teeth before pouring himself some cereal. It was all very mechanical. 

He didn’t understand why he was so perturbed by Castiel’s abrupt exit. Sure, there’d been a strange energy between them, and then he kissed him (even if it was only on the cheek, it still stirred quite a reaction in Dean). But that certainly didn’t warrant so much concern on Dean’s part. Dean wasn’t even sad that he was gone; it just felt like something had shifted, something that would never really be put back into place. 

He put his bowl in the sink and slipped his shoes on, writing a quick note to Sam saying he was going out and that he’d lock the doors. The imprint from Castiel’s note remained as a ghost on the notepad, but Dean couldn’t make much out; just random indentations and notches where he’d applied more pressure to his pen stroke. 

Dean shook his head, heading outside and locking the door behind him. He got his bike out of the garage and walked it up the driveway to the sidewalk. He stopped then, surveying the damage that the windstorm had done. Branches lay across the street, but it seemed Dean’s neighbors had at least moved them to the sides of the street earlier that morning. Some of the other houses had shutters hanging on hinges and gardens torn up. Overall though, his street didn’t seem to have been hit too horribly. He got on his bike and began to ride around the streets, seeing a ton of fallen branches and taped-off downed power lines. Predictably, he found himself riding the path that led to the tree. 

Branches of the trees lining the path had fallen, but not across the path. They crossed over each other, leaning against each other above the path, creating a mystical sort of tunnel straight out of a fairytale. Sure, there was a mess of twigs and leaves on the ground, and the ride was bumpier than usual, but the damage was actually very beautiful.

Dean was both relieved and not at all surprised to find there wasn’t a single scratch on the tree. He sighed, walking right up to it and pressing his palms to the bark of the trunk, resting his forehead against it. The beat in his chest was becoming familiar to him, and right then it provided him immense comfort he hadn’t realized he’d been craving until the need was satisfied. He took a few moments to just breathe, letting the events of the night before wash over him. 

He’d met a cute guy. He’d felt some trippy spiritual connection to him. He’d sort of kissed him. Then he left.

Dean let out a breath, hefting himself up into the tree, twisting his body around the winding, sturdy branches, exploring the organism’s depths and climbing as high as he dared. He settled on a spot a few branches up, his heart pounding with energy, exhilaration, and small traces of fear induced by the height he’d ascended to. He allowed himself to lean into the tree, looking around aimlessly, taking in his surroundings. He soon closed his eyes, losing track of time as he submerged himself in a strange state of subconscious bliss. It was comforting on a level Dean had never felt before.

So he made a habit of it. His visits to the tree eventually dwindled down from daily to only a three or four times a week, but there were also days where he would go multiple times, or stay for hours. At the beginning he’d spend hours up there, just thinking, or not thinking, sometimes even sleeping. He went for solace, and he went because he felt like it. No one bothered him, or ever even came by. It was like Dean had a little corner of the world all to himself. Sometimes he wondered if the tree was in a different world entirely before reminding himself that that was ridiculous.

Dean started bringing books and his Walkman with him up into the tree, creating a space of utter tranquility. The tree was his escape for the majority of the remainder of his teen years, but he never shared it with anyone else. Whatever was there was for him; he knew it was a selfish way of thinking, but he felt it every time he neared the clearing. He felt it resonating in his bones when he sat within the tree, setting his worries free as his feet dangled in the breeze. He’d even visit in the winter, though he wouldn’t stay as long.

Mary worried about Castiel (or who she thought of as Jimmy) for months afterward. She stopped mentioning it after a few weeks, but Dean could see it. Not often, but he knew she hadn’t let go. The scarce memories Dean had of the boy began to gradually fade from Dean’s mind. He remembered the intensity of the blue hues of his eyes, and the tingling sensation his lips left in their wake on Dean’s skin, but not much else as time went on. Sometimes, when he was sitting up in the tree, a breeze would pass, and a scent would cloud Dean’s senses, and suddenly he’d be bombarded with images of Castiel sitting on his couch watching him, or complimenting his cooking skills. Dean’s heart would lift and swell momentarily, but the memories were gone as soon as they’d resurfaced. 

Castiel was never really gone to Dean. He felt the same energy he’d felt coming from him coming from within the tree, and though he didn’t think about him much, he lingered on the edges of his subconscious, like a smell you couldn’t get rid of no matter how much you cleaned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of rape in this chapter (no actual rape).

Thursday, April 14th, 2005. Los Angeles County, California.

It was hot. Unbearably hot. It was also fairly bright, though Dean had thought it was night? There was a strange, distant crackling that prickled beneath his skin, like static on a record player. God, he was warm. Why was he so warm? He hadn’t been this hot since the fire. He had a fleeting thought that he should probably get out of the heat, but he was too tired to even try to move a muscle. He was exhausted. Why was he so exhausted? He couldn’t even open his eyes. 

“Dean,” a voice called from the water. Or at least it sounded like his name. He couldn’t make out too much more; the water made it so hard to understand, and it was just too much effort to try. But the water was dry and hot. Water didn’t burn, did it? 

He felt he was being lifted, shot up into the sky and tossed into some celestial washing machine. Something tugged in his chest, yanked even. His throat burned and he was so, so warm. His eyes fluttered open briefly, taking in an orange blaze. It was interrupted by a flash of cool blue. “You’re going to be okay, Dean,” the warmth promised. Dean thought he groaned in response, but he really couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open for more than ten seconds. Even with that, he had no clue what was going on, so he let himself slip into black, out of the fire. 

 

“Sir, your hands-”

“I’ll be fine. Just make sure he’s okay.”

“But, sir-”

 

The first thing Dean registered was the beeping. Then he was puking.

He sat up deliriously, absently wiping at his mouth. The room was a blur, but it was easy enough to tell that he wasn’t on Benny’s couch. The smell was unmistakably sterile, so it didn’t take him long to figure out he was in a hospital bed. He also noted that he’d managed to puke in the metal bin by his bed, which he gave himself credit for. The thing he didn’t get was why he was in a hospital bed, and how he got there. And why he felt like he had the worst flu of his life. He groaned, confused as to why there was stuff attaching him to machines, and a bandage on his left shoulder. He was sure whatever shit he’d gotten into the night before hadn’t been that bad.

Of course, he couldn’t really remember much of it. He remembered getting drunk with a redhead named Abby, and he remembered being hotter than ever before, but not much else. There was a reminiscence of a deep far away voice, a shock of blue amidst flaming orange light. His heart leapt at a nostalgic sense of a pulling in his chest, but it was gone before he could fully register it. 

“You’re awake!” a chipper voice called from the doorway. A nurse with black hair and a bright smile walked into the room, clipboard in her hands.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Dean mumbled blearily. The nurse frowned. 

“Well, I was gonna ask how you’re feeling, but I’m guessing you’re feeling pretty crappy?” she said. Dean huffed out a humorless laugh, the effort making him nauseous. He closed his eyes. “I’m Nurse Blake, by the way, but you can call me Sarah,” she introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you,” Dean replied blandly, forcing his eyes open. “You have any idea what the hell happened to me?” Sarah pursed her lips, her eyes full of apologies and pity. Dean’s stomach churned.

“Dean,” she spoke in a very soft voice, resting her hand gently on his forearm. “I understand you’re not feeling very well right now, and you might want-”

“What? What is it?” Dean demanded. “What the hell happened to me?” His voice rose Sarah sighed, her demeanor becoming more serious.

“We believe you were drugged last night.” Dean’s eyes went wide. His stomach flopped, making him think he was going to puke again.

“You mean I was roofied?” he asked incredulously. 

“That’s what we’re thinking,” Sarah confirmed apologetically. “You’re showing all the symptoms, and the man who brought you in said he found you passed out in the bushes on the side of the street.” Dean shook his head. “I’m really sorry, I know this must be a lot to wake up to. We were going to wait a little while before telling you, but… you seemed to want to know pretty badly,” she said, giving him a small smile.

“But… don’t people who roofie someone usually… you know… rape them?” Dean asked, his voice tapering off at the end, his stomach sinking at the thought. Sarah shot him an apologetic look. Dean didn’t like it.

“Usually,” she confirmed solemnly. “I wasn’t going to bring that up until a little later, though. Usually not the first thing a person wants to hear when they wake up in a hospital bed.” Dean stared into space, not understanding the situation at all.

“No,” he said, shaking his head again, despite the wave of nausea the action brought on. “No, I was talking to a woman at the bar last night… and my ass doesn’t hurt, so…” he trailed off, shooting the nurse an apologetic look at using such crude language.

“You sound like you’re saying women don’t rape people,” Sarah replied delicately. “But it does happen. However, it didn’t necessarily happen to you. We have to do other tests to confirm whether you were assaulted or not, so we shouldn’t be jumping to any conclusions just yet.” Dean just continued to shake his head. He was groggy, and hot, yet had chills, and this was too much information at once. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone this in depth so soon. You probably feel like shit already.” Dean just shook his head in terrified awe. “If there’s anything I can get you or do for you, just let me know,” she offered kindly, squeezing is arm and standing up to go.

“Don’t,” Dean whispered. Sarah looked at him softly before sitting back down. Her blue eyes were so soft, so familiar. They were caring and looked like the sky, just like his mother’s. Too much like his mother’s. Aside from the picture he always kept in his wallet, he hadn’t seen his mother’s eyes in years…

He didn’t realize he was crying until Sarah pulled him into an embrace and he felt himself shaking against her slight yet soft frame. “Shh,” she soothed, rubbing his back. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe now, just breathe.” He hiccupped staggered breaths, wishing to God that he could just breathe. “We called your emergency contact, Benny. He should be here in about an hour or so,” she informed him. He nodded, taking a deep breath and sitting back. He wiped his eyes, swallowing back his sobs. His chest ached with the reminder of the day he removed Mary and Sam’s numbers from his In Case of Emergency list, but he knew this wasn’t shit they had to deal with. Hell, Benny shouldn’t have to put up with Dean’s shit either, but at least Benny didn’t give him heartbrokenly disappointed eyes every time he came home drunk, or high, or hurt, or sick, or crying. No, Dean reminded himself, no matter how badly he craved his mother’s embrace, or to see his little brother’s smile in person, he knew this was better for the two of them. 

“Hey, is there a bathroom anywhere?” he asked, finally making himself look into Sarah’s eyes, no matter how much it hurt to be so strongly reminded of his mom. 

“That door right over there,” Sarah told him, nodding toward a door in the corner of the room. “On-suite,” she smiled. Dean reciprocated the gesture weakly. 

“M’I allowed to take these out?” Dean asked, gesturing to the various tubes connecting him to the machines.

“No,” Sarah answered, “they’re monitoring your vitals, and it would be extremely dangerous to remove them incorrectly. But you can roll the machines with you to the bathroom.” Dean nodded, slowly climbing out of bed. He took a moment to steady himself once he was upright, closing his eyes, and holding his head in one of his hands as the room spun around him.

“So, uh, what’s the bandage for?” Dean asked as he let himself adjust to being on his feet. Everything hurt, and he was both sweating and freezing. 

“You got burned pretty badly,” she told him. Dean eyed her in confusion.

“Burned?” he repeated. “How the hell did I get burned?”

“There was a crazy fire tornado last night,” she explained patiently. Dean’s eyebrows shot up; he’d heard of fire tornadoes before, but he’d thought they were pretty rare. “You’ll probably hear all about it on the news, but you had a pretty close encounter. The guy who brought you in, Steve, said he saw you and got you out of there as soon as possible. Considering your wounds, it seems you were extremely lucky he showed up. Honestly, I have no idea how you two managed to come out of that with minimal injuries – maybe you have an angel watching over you or something.” Dean’s heart seized, his mother’s voice ringing in his ears. There are angels watching over you. He masked it with an unenthusiastic laugh.

“Yeah, if you believe in that,” he muttered. “You said the guy who brought me in was named Steve?” Sarah nodded. “He give you a last name?”

“No,” she sighed. “He didn’t even let us help him with the burns on his hands; he said he’d be fine, then disappeared.” Blue eyes and dark hair flashed through his mind. His chest tightened as his brain searched desperately for a name or a face to match with the deep voice he’d heard the night before. He knew those eyes, but only as a ghost, just out of reach of his memory and understanding.

“Weird,” Dean grumbled, heading for the bathroom. “Well, I’ll call for you if I need anything else. Thanks,” he smiled.

“It’s my job,” Sarah shrugged with a genuine smile. “I’ll see you soon.” Dean’s grin faltered as he watched her leave before he bolted into the bathroom. 

 

Benny was equal parts pissed and worried when he finally arrived. Dean was asleep, but Sarah woke him up gently, letting him know his friend was there. 

“Brought you a Jell-O cup from the cafeteria,” he told him, offering the Dean the treat. Dean took it gratefully with tired enthusiasm. 

“And look, it even has whipped cream and a cherry,” Dean grinned. “You sure know how to treat a guy.” Benny rolled his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, well, apparently you been through some shit,” he replied, whistling, clearly impressed and relieved. “Escaping a fire tornado… shit, brother, you deserve a Jell-O cup.” Dean laughed weakly at that, spooning some of the whipped cream and red gelatin into his mouth. That guy who saved my poor ass deserves a Jell-O cup, he thought to himself, a layer of guilt beginning to settle over him. He wished the guy had stayed so he could properly thank him. “They also told me you got drugged up pretty bad,” he continued, clearly testing the waters despite the strength of his voice. Dean shook his head.

“I guess,” he replied. “I mean, I don’t really think it’s that big of deal. I’ve blacked out before.” 

“If you weren’t in a hospital bed, I’d smack you upside the head,” Benny stated, shaking his head. “Ain’t you got any respect for yourself?” Dean clenched his jaw and stared past Benny’s shoulder. Most of the time he came to be grateful for Benny calling him out on his shit, but he really wasn’t in the mood to hear a lecture about self-love. Benny sighed at Dean’s lack of compliance. “You gotta care about yourself more. You can’t just accept-”

“I’ve accepted it, okay?” Dean lied. “So maybe I was drugged, huh? So what? I’m not dead in a ditch, and for whatever reason that freakin’ fire tornado didn’t swallow me alive. Can’t I just be grateful for that?”

“’Course you should be grateful for that,” Benny agreed. “Hell, I’m counting my blessings right about now, too. But being grateful you didn’t die isn’t the same thing as confronting what happened to you.” Dean rolled his eyes. “You can roll your eyes all you want, princess, but I’m serious. Now don’t yell at me, but that nurse of yours was talking to me about the possibility of getting you a counselor-”

“Oh, hell no,” Dean protested. “I’m not some basket case, and I don’t need a shrink. I’m fine.”

“Would you stop being an asshole?” Benny reprimanded him. “Lots of people see counselors and therapists – it’s good to have someone to talk to, especially when that person knows their shit.” Dean huffed, but he knew Benny might’ve had a point, so he took a calming breath. 

“So you think I should go to a counselor?” Dean asked, still pretty averse to the idea. Benny shrugged.

“Well, they’re not charging you, so it can’t hurt.” After a pause he added, “And yeah, I do think you should go. This ain’t the only thing you got on your plate; it’ll be good for you.” Dean scoffed.

“I can handle my own problems, thanks,” he sneered. He knew he was being a jackass, and he felt bad about it, but how was talking to someone going to solve his problems? What if they tried to diagnose him for something, or give him pills? 

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Benny told him in a softer voice. “And I’m always here, you know that, but you know I’m shit at advice, and I really think this could help you.” Dean inhaled deeply, turning the suggestion over in his head. It did kind of suck keeping everything to himself.

“No doctors,” he declared finally. “I’ll talk to the counselor or whatever, but I’m not seeing any head doctors.” Benny smiled proudly. Dean felt vulnerable under the weight of his gaze; it always made Dean unreasonably emotional when he could tell someone was proud of him. 

“That’s a good start, brother.” 

 

The counselor’s name was Pamela Barnes, and Dean liked her from the moment he met her. He’d taken a few days to recover before seeing her, working through the (extremely horrible) after-effects of the roofies. 

She asked him briefly about his family, but didn’t go too into depth, which Dean was glad for. She also got to the point pretty quickly, which was good. “So,” she said, leaning forward, “I’m betting you don’t remember much from a few nights ago, do you?” Dean shook his head tacitly. “You wanna tell me what you do remember?”

“Will I get a lollipop if I do?” Dean joked. He knew he was evading the question, and he knew Pamela could tell what he was doing, but she smiled anyway.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She waited for his response, lifting an eyebrow at him. He sighed resignedly.

“I remembering flirting with this redhead at the bar,” he recounted. “She said her name was Abby. We got to talking, and after that… I remember going outside, but the rest is useless flashes.”

“Any particularly significant flashes?” she inquired further. 

“I remember the heat of the fire,” he told her. “And I remember that guy… Steve… I sort of remember his voice…” I remember his eyes, and a tug in my chest, he thought to himself, his mind still unable to full process what had happened. Pamela nodded.

“Do you remember anything that he said?” Dean swallowed, fiddling with his hospital bracelet. He remembered his name being called. Only, he didn’t know any Steve’s.

“He said I was going to be okay,” he told her – which was the truth, just not the full truth. “’Course, that could’ve been in my head.” Pam nodded. She then checked her clipboard, which Dean didn’t really appreciate, but he made himself get past it.

“So, while it’s clear you were drugged, the good news is there’s no clear signs that you were assaulted, sexually or otherwise,” she told him. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Your STD tests should be back later tonight, but apparently the doctors didn’t seem to think anything funky was going on down there, so that’s a plus.” Dean blushed furiously at the memory; he really hated people messing around with his junk, no matter how many certificates they had. “If you could remember anything between leaving the bar and getting your ass hauled out of the fire that would be really helpful. I know it’s difficult, and I don’t blame you if you can’t, but it’d be beneficial to your cause if you could try.” Dean nodded, trying to remember that night.

“Uh, I remember a hand on my wrist, and… lips near my ear. I had no idea where I was… and then there was someone yelling… then the fire. I don’t even remember any of my clothes coming off, so…” he trailed off. Pam made a note, which made Dean shift uncomfortably.

“You heard someone yelling?” Dean nodded. “Do you remember what they were saying?” Dean shook his head.

“He… he wasn’t yelling at me… but he was angry,” he relayed to her meekly.

“So it was a man yelling?” Dean nodded again. “Do you think it was possible he saw what was happening to you and stopped it?” Dean hadn’t considered that; the yelling had sounded like it was miles away, and it was hard to make out anything besides its livid tone. 

“I-I guess,” he stammered out. “That might make sense… and then we somehow got caught up in the tornado…” Dean rubbed his temples as he tried to piece his memories together. “But that wouldn’t make sense… the guy, Steve, said he found me by the side of the road, right? Unconscious?” Pam nodded. “So then the guy who stopped that chick, I guess… that guy just left me on the side of the road?”

“It’s possible; people get scared.” She paused then, her eyes piercing Dean. “People also lie.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’m saying, the guy who brought you in didn’t give a very detailed story.” Dean let that sink in.

“So you think that Steve guy saw what was going down, stopped it, and brought me here?” he clarified.

“I think it’s a possibility,” she answered. Dean nodded, considering it. He didn’t know how it would’ve worked out, or why he would’ve lied about that, but he tried not to stress too much over the details of the situation. 

“I think I need to sleep,” he declared finally.

 

The test results came later that night, confirming that Dean was clean of any STD’s. “Oh, thank god,” he breathed out; he could’ve cried with relief. Sarah left him soon after that, leaving a pudding parfait on his bedside table. Dean was gratefully gorging it down, his stomach more stable after a few days of recovery, when Pam came in.

“Hey, kiddo,” she greeted him with a knowing grin. “You eating your fruits and veggies?” she teased, nodding toward the pudding in his hands.

“Hey, I’m STD-free; I think that deserves some celebration,” he defended himself. Pam nodded, impressed. 

“I’m happy for you, Dean.” Dean nodded, a smile tugging at his lips.

“So I can go home tomorrow, right?” he asked, both joyed and a little bittersweet when she nodded; he’d developed a fondness for Pam and Sarah. 

“I really think you should call your mom and brother when you do,” she advised gently after a moment. Dean’s chest seized at the thought. He tried to call his mom at least once a month, but he knew what Pam meant. “I think talking to them more often will be great for all of you, and seeing them would be amazing, but I’m not pushing.” Dean nodded; his eyes burned at the thought of seeing his mom and Sam after all that time. They’d probably be furious with him for running off on them for so long… Mary always told him she wanted the best for him when they called each other, but Dean… well, he was lost. And he wanted to go home.

 

He was pacing the floor of Benny’s living room the next night, phone in his hand, screen open to Mary’s contact. Benny was out for the next few hours, so Dean knew he had time. He also knew he was stalling. Finally, taking a deep breath, he pressed call.

He tapped his foot anxiously, his heart racing as the phone rang. It only took two and a half rings before his mother’s voice filled his ears. “Dean?” she answered, her voice full of concern.

“Hey, mom,” Dean choked out. 

“Honey, is everything all right? Are you okay?” she demanded. Dean’s heart was heavy with the guilt of making his mom worry like that.

“Yeah, I’m good, don’t worry,” he assured her through the lump in his throat. “How about you? You doing okay?” He heard his mother sigh on the other end of the line.

“I’m all right,” she breathed. “Anything new with you?”

“Well, there was a fire tornado in the area the other day,” he told her, neglecting to mention that he’d been near it; she didn’t need to worry about him more than she already did, and he didn’t have an explanation of how he’d gotten out of there. He also really didn’t want to tell her how he’d gotten there in the first place.

“A fire tornado?” she repeated incredulously. 

“Yeah, it was crazy,” he told her. 

“And you’re all right?” she asked again. The ache in his chest grew stronger. He didn’t understand how Mary could still care so much about him when he’d been such a disappointment.

“Yeah, I’m good. So is Benny,” he promised.

“Good,” she said, relief beginning to seep into her voice. She gave a small laugh then. “I’m being such a worrisome mother, aren’t I?” Dean chuckled mirthlessly in response.

“Yeah, but that’s not a bad thing.” Mary hummed before becoming silent for a moment.

“I miss you,” she said after a breath. And there it was. There was the moment Dean made his decision.

“I know,” he replied, voice thick with emotion. “I miss you too, mom. But, uh…” he trailed off then, his heart beating in his chest, a million thoughts and doubts running through his mind.

“But what, honey?” Mary’s concerned voice encouraged. 

What it Pamela was wrong? What if Mary didn’t want to see him? What was waiting for him in Lawrence? What about Benny?

He threw his worries out the window, jumping in head first.

“I’m coming home,” he revealed to her. He heard her gasp lightly on the other end – not shocked, but definitely taken aback.

“You- you are?” she asked, emotion clear in her voice. Dean nodded before remembering that she couldn’t see him.

“Yeah,” he choked out, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. He heard his mom let out a small sob into the receiver. 

“When?” she asked. The excitement in her voice made Dean let out a sob of joy as well.

“I’ve already started packing,” he said, clearing his throat. It was true – it hadn’t taken him long since he didn’t have much stuff. He just needed things like toothpaste and his razor. “I could leave by tomorrow night, maybe the next morning.” 

“Well, make sure you give everyone a proper goodbye, don’t rush yourself on my account.” Dean smiled at that.

“All right, leaving in two days then,” he agreed.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Mary gushed. Dean’s throat bobbed with emotion.

“You too,” he nearly whispered, clearing his throat. “See you in a few days.”

 

Dean didn’t have many friends in California. 

Mary had insisted Dean go to college, but he’d told her it was pointless. He still remembered the argument like it happened yesterday. (“Dean, you are so much smarter than you give yourself credit for!” “I can already fix cars – I rebuilt the Impala from the ground up. That’s a job right there; I don’t need to spend thousands of dollars to get a degree I’m never gonna do anything with!”) So he’d worked at an auto shop that their family friend, Bobby owned from the age of eighteen until he was twenty-two, spending his nights wiping down tables at the Harvelles’ bar to save up extra cash. Before he knew it, Sam was going off to school, off to Stanford; his little brother was going to school on the west coast, he was becoming a lawyer, and Dean was washing tables in the town he’d lived in his entire life.

So he left. He had enough money saved up, and he was going crazy thinking of how much of his life he was wasting, stuck in rut, going nowhere. He kissed his mom goodbye that fall and loaded up the Impala, setting off for places, people, and journeys unknown. And somehow, he never ended up returning to Lawrence. He sometimes thought it had to do with facing the guilt of leaving Mary alone so abruptly, but he usually did his best to drink away those thoughts when they crept up on him.

He’d met Benny in Utah, about five months after Dean had left Lawrence. They were both twenty-three and travelling the country. Benny offered Dean to stay in his motel room after they’d spent upwards of three hours at the bar Benny worked at talking and sharing stories, since the only motel in town that had any rooms left was super sketchy. (Dean had stayed in worse, but he wasn’t going to turn down an offer for something free and better.) 

That night, after one or two too many beers, they made plans to travel the country together. Benny had a cousin with an apartment in California, which he handed over to Benny in February of ’04. He and Dean had been living there together for a little over a year while Benny worked at a diner a few blocks away and Dean fixed cars in a small garage attached to a gas station. It was a one bedroom, and the water was cold just as often as it was hot, but it sufficed.

Benny and a few guys from the bar and the garage threw him a small going-away party the next night, which Dean rolled his eyes at, but secretly really appreciated. He and Benny shared a prolonged hug before he left the next morning, and Dean made him promise to visit Lawrence some time. 

He didn’t want to stop, he wanted to keep on driving until he was home, only resting for gas and bathroom breaks, maybe grabbing a burger or a granola bar along the way, but eventually his drooping eyelids forced him to pull over in Denver for a night. 

He was on the road again by seven the next morning, stocking up on snacks for the ride and only stopping once during the eight hour drive. He got to Lawrence just after four o’clock Central Time.

Driving the old streets he grew up on was an incredibly surreal experience. He took about half an hour just driving through the roads, familiarizing himself with them again even though he still knew them like the back of his hand. He felt like he’d just stabbed himself through the chest when he passed Charlie’s house. He knew she still lived there. Charlie had stayed in Lawrence after high school too; she went to school at Washburn Tech in Topeka and came home on the weekends. They kept tabs on each other when Dean left, but they’d stopped talking as much after a year and a half; Charlie’s aunt found out she had cancer, and taking care of her took over Charlie’s life, even though her condition wasn’t that bad at the time. Charlie had gotten pissed at Dean for not coming back, even to visit, and they didn’t talk for three months. Dean had wanted to go back and be there for her, but he wasn’t ready to go back. He knew he was being a selfish asshole, but the guilt made him even more averse to going back and facing his mistakes. He knew she was going to be pissed when she saw him; he hadn’t even told her he was coming back. The first thing she was probably going to do when she saw him was punch him in the jaw. Not that Dean blamed her – he wanted to punch himself, too.

He took a deep breath before driving home. A wave of nostalgia crashed over him as he turned onto his street, his house coming into view. All the air escaped from his lungs as he pulled up outside.

He was really home.

He had to take a minute to steady his breathing (and wipe his eyes) before he climbed out of the car. Even then, he stood frozen, staring at the house he grew up in. Unshed tears burned behind his eyes, silenced sobs stuck in his throat; he’d missed his house – his home – so much. His breath left him when he heard the front door open and saw his mom standing in the doorway, still in her light pink, floral scrubs. “Dean?” she called. And just like that, the tears were flowing freely. She started down the front stairs, and Dean bounded to meet her.

And then they were standing in the middle of the yard, hugging the life out of each other for all the neighbors to see – and Dean didn’t give a shit. All that mattered to Dean was that he was home. The aroma of his mother’s shampoo filled his head, soothing his worries. Her arms were an anchor around him, bringing him back down to Earth. He sobbed shamelessly into her shoulder, probably crushing her with the force of his embrace. Neither one of them complained.

“Hey, mom,” he eventually choked out. Mary pulled back then and cupped her son’s face in her hands, her eyes red and cheeks tear stained, but she was beaming.

“Let’s get inside,” she suggested, leading him up the walkway and into the house. Dean gently closed the door behind him, inhaling the smell of home; he’d almost forgotten it. He wandered around the living room, taking everything in. He turned back around to see Mary leaning against the doorway into the kitchen, smiling at him with tears in her eyes. “It’s so nice to have you back,” she said softly. Dean nodded, his eyes leaking tears again.

“It’s good to be back,” he agreed. “I’m sorry I was gone so long,” he apologized, his face crumpling. Mary was across the room in seconds, her arm once again wrapped around him.

They sat on the couch together, sharing everything, reminiscing – just talking, really. Dean was happier than he’d been in years. They were some tears, but mostly smiles punctuated with laughter. 

“You must be exhausted from the drive,” Mary pointed out after a while, wiping her cheeks. “Why don’t you lie down and rest while I make us some dinner? I made up your room upstairs, so everything should be set.” Dean smiled at her.

“You know, I’m still an amazing cook,” he grinned. “Maybe I should help you with dinner.” Mary rolled her eyes at him, but acquiesced. 

“Fine, come on.” Dean beamed and followed her into the kitchen.

They ended up making mac n’ cheese with hot dogs – not necessarily a specialty, but it was Dean’s favorite meal as a kid (and as a teenager, if he was being honest). “Has Sam told you about Jessica?” Mary asked. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Who’s Jessica?” he asked with interest, trying to hide the guilt he was feeling for not keeping updated on his brother’s life. Mary pursed her lips and widened her eyes in an excited, gossipy way she sometimes got – it reminded Dean of an expression of a teenage girl, and he found it both strange and amusing to see it on his mother’s face.

“Jessica is Sammy’s girlfriend,” she whispered theatrically. “I’m not sure if they’re officially together yet, but they’ve been on a few dates, and he’s completely gone for her,” she gushed, grinning. Dean smiled back, his chest warm at the thought of Sam having a girlfriend.

“Has he sent you any pictures yet?” he asked, now curious about what she looked like. 

“Only one, and they’re with a group of friends,” she answered. Still, she rummaged around her purse for her phone. “Did you know she’s going to medical school?” she gushed, searching through her messages. 

“Wow,” Dean replied, at a loss for any other way to respond to that. “They’re gonna be loaded when they get married.” Mary tittered at that.

“That’s for sure,” she agreed. “They’re paying for my retirement home.” Dean smiled at that. Then Mary showed him the picture Sam had sent her. “She’s the tall blonde one on the left.” Dean searched the pixels for the right face, whistling when he saw her.

“Damn. Nice one, Sammy,” he muttered in approval. Mary slapped him lightly on the shoulder, giving him a disapproving yet slightly amused look.

“No inappropriate comments,” she chided. Dean raised his hands sheepishly in apology. Mary put her phone away and leaned back in her chair, grinning at her son. “So,” she started, “tell me about Arizona.”

 

Dean left to go see Charlie a little before seven. He went by foot, as her house wasn’t too far from his own. He took the path he always took, the route still memorized.

A beat.

The worn soles of his boots padded on familiar sidewalks as he inhaled the scent of the roads and paths, reacquainting himself with his hometown.

A thrum.

He passed all the landmarks he remembered, houses that had stayed the same and houses that had changed.

A pull.

There was no denying it as he neared the path. His breath was coming in short, uneven huffs. He’d tried to tell himself it was nothing, that he was just being paranoid (about what he wasn’t sure), but he couldn’t convince himself. His feet inevitably turned down the old beaten path, his eyes wide with nostalgia and his mouth open with wonder as he floated on, not a thought needed to find the way. The old vibration sang through his arms, beating in his chest like a ceremonial drum. With the amount of times he’d been down the path, he hardly needed to search for the root to know where and when to turn, even in the fading light of dusk. His breath caught as he emerged from the underbrush.

He’d been worried it wasn’t going to be there anymore. But the tree was there, unmoved, calling to him. Dean glided over to it in a dreamlike haze, barely registering the space between his palm and the trunk until there wasn’t any left. 

He breathed in deeply, letting the energy flow through him; his veins soaked up the power. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it – he’d almost forgotten it. As time wore on and he began to forget the smell of his best friend’s house and the arrangement of the bar tables, he also began to forget the feeling of security the tree brought him. He thought he could fall into it. 

He opened his eyes to find the world much darker than it had been when he closed them – the sun hadn’t wasted time setting. He tore himself away from the tree, despite his craving to climb into its branches and spend the night staring up at the sky through the small, scattered spaces between the leaves. The pull of the energy burned in his wrists like whiskey as he turned from the tree, drawing him in like the smell of home, a warm bed after a long, long day. The power was something all its own, a nicotine laced security blanket that called Dean back to it and gave him something, somewhere to turn to.

He resolved to go back later. Right then he had to see Charlie. 

 

He stopped when he reached the corner of her street, her house in view. The glow of light in the windows gave Dean hope that someone was home as he brought up his friend’s number. He refused to let himself overthink the situation before pressing the call button. He leaned against a telephone pole, each ring making him all the more nervous. “Hello?” Charlie’s voice finally came through. Dean let out a relieved breath.

“Hey, I have a question,” he stated, trying his best not to sound too suspicious. 

“Yeah, I’ve been good, thanks for asking,” she said sarcastically. Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t fight the fond smile that took over his face. 

“Good to know,” he replied, same joking tone in his voice. “You home?”

“Yes,” Charlie answered slowly, suspicion clear in her voice. Dean started walking toward her house, his heart beating faster with every step, a mix of excitement and nerves. “Why?”

“Awesome,” Dean responded, ignoring her question. “Thanks! Love you, bye!” He hung up on her, which was going to make her even madder when she saw him, but he figured he was already going to get punched, so why not poke a little fun?

He walked up the familiar porch steps which were just a little bit more rickety than the last time he’d been there, the red paint just a little bit more faded and chipped. He could feel his heart climbing up into his throat as he rang the doorbell. He knew he shouldn’t have been so nervous about seeing his best friend, but he had no idea if she’d even want to see him. He heard footsteps creaking against the floorboards of the aged house as she approached the door. It swung open to reveal a rather rumpled looking Charlie, her hair a bit mussed as it hung around her head in a red cloud. She was wearing the same Star Wars shirt Dean could remember her having since the start of their friendship, and with it a pair of pink and green checked flannel pajama pants.

Dean’s eyes went to her face last, afraid of the expression he might find there. He smiled weakly at her to find her eyes wide and glassy. Her open mouth moved into a hesitant smile. “Dean?” she asked, her voice small. All Dean could do was smile and nod. A brief smile graced her face, but in a flash it soured and there was a hand striking his cheek.

Dean reeled from the slap for a moment, rubbing his cheek and straightening himself out. “I deserve that,” he admitted shamefully to Charlie’s mismatched socks. “Gotta say though, I was expecting a punch.” He looked up to find his friend with her arms across her chest, a fairly heatless glare on her face.

“Do you want me to punch you?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up beneath her bangs.

“Nice bangs,” he remarked dumbly, voice fully sincere. Charlie eyed him confusedly in response to the non sequitur. 

“What?” she demanded, her voice as unthreatening as ever. 

“You got bangs,” Dean clarified. “They look nice.” He couldn’t help the dopey, sentimental grin that stretched across his face. “I like them. They suit you.” 

“Uh, thanks,” Charlie replied, her anger fading. Dean tilted his head to the side, taking in the sight of his best friend. She was so different – she held herself a little differently, had a little bit more wisdom in her eyes – but Dean was incredibly relieved to find there was still the same spark there. He wanted to reach out and pull her into a hug, crush her until she smacked him and yelled at him for not letting her breath. Tears welled in his eyes as he smiled at her.

“God, look at you,” he breathed. “I’ve missed you so much.” His voice broke over the emotion in his throat. And then the tears were spilling over.

“Oh, no,” Charlie said, her voice wavering as she pointed a finger at Dean. “Don’t you cry,” she ordered, her own eyes beginning to shine, “because if you start crying, then I’m gonna start crying, and…” she trailed off her face crumpling, Dean stroked her hair fondly before pulling her into a long overdue embrace. She folded into him, her arms hooking around his back as he rested her head against his chest. Dean held her small frame tight to his body, breathing in the smell of her laundry detergent and shampoo as he rested his lips against the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. Charlie didn’t say anything, just shook her head and stepped back to pull Dean inside the house and shut the door behind them.

“Can’t have the neighbors seeing us like this,” she joked, sniffling at the end. Dean smiled lovingly at her, taking her face in his hands and swiping his thumbs under her wet eyes. “So, how long you been back?” she asked, catching her breath.

“Only a few hours,” he informed her. “You’re the first person I’m seeing other than my mom.”

“I better be,” she joked, swatting his hands away and wiping her face herself. Dean chuckled, the gesture full of emotion. “So, I know your mom probably fed you right, but I’ve got plenty of snacks,” she shared, dragging him by the wrist into the kitchen. Dean’s heart melted at how easily they fell back into routine; he should’ve known it would be this effortless. He and Charlie just fit. He was crying again by the time Charlie leaned down and began scouring the cabinets, silent tears tracking down his cheeks as he looked around the kitchen, cataloguing every detail that had stayed and every feature that had changed.

“You’re not crying over Pop Tarts, are you?” Charlie teased, but it was a weak attempt, and there was a nostalgic smile on her face.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized with a half-hearted laugh. “It’s just… it’s been a while.” Charlie nodded solemnly.

“Yeah,” she agreed. They stood together in understanding silence, taking stock of each other. Charlie took a deep breath and clapped her hands around the cardboard box of toaster pastries. “So,” she said brightly, “what do you say? You up for some movies? You can tell me all about your world adventures, we can cry like teenage girls some more – it’ll be fun.” Dean smiled then, one of pure joy and love for his friend, wiping his eyes and taking a breath.

“That sounds amazing,” he accepted, taking his best friend’s hand and letting her follow him into the basement, the same old hop in her step as always. Dean was glad to know not much had changed, that his mom and his best friend still loved him as they did before. He had a lot of atoning left to do, he knew that, but they still loved him, and that was a good starting point.


	4. Chapter 4

Friday, April 17th, 2015. Lawrence, Kansas.

“Thank you sir,” Jo smiled, batting her eyelashes at the man wobbling out the door and slipping the fifty he’d just given her into the back pocket of her jeans. “You have a nice night! Get home safe!” Dean watched on in slightly bitter amazement. 

“Why are you the one that always gets the fifty dollar tips?” he asked, more than a little indignant. 

“Must be my shining personality,” she smirked smugly. “I’m also a lot cuter than you.” Dean pulled an offended face. 

“I’m cute!” he argued, slapping a hand to his chest theatrically. Jo scrunched her face up at him.

“I don’t know,” she teased, “you’re kind of old.” Dean mocked hurt.

“That was low,” he remarked. “Even for you, that was very low. Besides, you’re only six years younger than me, squirt,” he reminded her. “You’re not that young anymore.”

“Hey, I’m only thirty,” she retorted. “That’s still young. Once you hit-” Dean waved his rag in her face, cutting her off. “Dean!” she exclaimed, grabbing the rag from him and hitting him with it. “That’s gross!” Dean laughed at her, taking the towel back from her hands. Dean thought he heard her say something then, but he was distracted; the bar was a good three quarters of a mile from the tree, much too far for its energy to reach him – and yet he felt the familiar tightness in his wrists. At first he thought it was just chills or something, but the sensation only grew, blossoming into the pulse in his veins, a small tug in his chest. “Dean?” Jo’s voice came to him, pulling him back. “You good?” she asked, her eyes concerned.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just remembered I might’ve left the TV on at home before coming into work,” he lied through the vibrations in his pulse. Jo nodded at him suspiciously, but turned to serve another customer, dropping it. Dean started wiping down the other side of the bar, which was presently void of people. 

The sound of the bell on the door jingling rang through the music playing throughout the bar. With it came a yank in Dean’s chest. He took a moment to even his breathing. Looking toward the door, he saw a guy in a suit and a trench coat wandering in, looking a bit lost. Dean watched him as his eyes flitted about the room, just barely noticing when they locked with his own. And wow, those eyes were blue. They did something to Dean, maybe him feel like he was being transported someplace, to a time he almost could recall. Once he realized they’d been staring at each other for a few moments, Dean wiped the stupid look off of his face and gave the guy a friendly smile, nodding at him before turning around and tossing his wet rag back with the others. He wiped the bar down with his dry towel, sticking it in his back pocket as the guy in the trench coat took a seat at Dean’s end of the bar, three seats from the girl who was venting to Jo, clearly already a few drinks in despite the time not having reached ten o’clock yet.

He redirected his attention to his new patron, leaning on the counter on his forearms. “Hey there,” he greeted the man, his eyes wandering and cataloguing his blue tie and the dark brown hair on his head that seemed like it had been brushed earlier in the day but had fallen victim to wind and other elements. Such as fingers having been run through it. “How’s it goin’?” he asked, looking him in his eyes. God, they were really blue. Something about them had Dean feeling a strange sense of déjà vu.

“I’m well, thank you,” the man replied in a surprisingly low, gravelly voice. Dean’s heart leapt in his chest. “And you?”

“Doin’ pretty good, thanks,” he said, grinning a shamelessly flirtatious grin. “Anything I can get for you tonight?” He straightened up then, keeping his hands on the counter.

“Um, just a water for now, thank you,” he requested, almost nervously. Dean raised an eyebrow, but grabbed a glass and filled it with water nonetheless. 

“You waiting for someone?” he asked as he set the glass down on a small square napkin. 

“Uh, no,” the guy answered, taking a tentative sip of his water.

“Just thought you’d get some free water from the local bar?” he joked, smirking in a way that was one hundred percent intended to be flirtatious – the guy was hot, sue him. His blue eyes widened.

“Oh, no, of course not, I-”

“Dude,” Dean cut in, ceasing his stammering, “I was just kidding. Don’t sweat it.” The guy nodded slowly after a moment, taking another sip of his water. Two girls came in and sat down in the seats between Trench Coat Guy and Jo’s girl. Dean went to serve them, smiling and showing off as he mixed their intricate drinks. They were both pretty with bright eyes and fluttering eyelashes, but Dean wasn’t really interested; that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to beat Jo for most tips that night, though, so he pulled out all the stops.

He came back to Blue Eyes after his “performance”, smiling amiably at the man who still looked pretty lost. “So, you just passing through?” Dean asked, leaning forward on the counter again.

“No, I’m uh, I’m actually new to town,” he explained. “I thought I’d try to get out of the house for a while.” Dean gave him a dramatically overdone look of delighted surprise.

“So you’re new around here, huh? Well, lucky for you, you’re talking to someone who’s lived here his whole life.” The man smiled slightly as Dean stood up and held out his hand. “Dean Winchester, Lawrence native, ready to provide any and all information I can on this beautiful community.” The guy hesitantly took Dean’s hand – Dean shook it firmly.

“I’m… Castiel,” the man introduced himself after a thoughtful pause.

Dean thought he felt his heart stop for a moment. Castiel. He knew that name. With it came a windstorm, a confusing note and even more confusing feelings. 

“Welcome to town, Castiel,” Dean beamed, though it felt a bit forced due to the emotional shock he was feeling. He kept his hand around the other man’s for a beat too long as he pretended to not recognize the man in front of him. He didn’t know why he decided it was best to act like he didn’t remember the guy, but he’d gone there, so he was sticking with it. “That’s a nice name, by the way,” he added after a moment.

“Thank you,” Castiel replied, ducking his head bashfully (which Dean found way too endearing). “It’s biblical.” Dean nodded in interest. 

“…to add to the list of bizarre weather occurrences happening across the world over the past two months, a very strange tragedy took place last night in a small village in Northeast Iceland.” Dean turned to face one of the bar’s TV’s. There’d been a lot of weird natural phenomena going on around the world within the past few months, each either stranger or scarier than the one before. Some people were thinking it was the apocalypse. “The small village, home to less than a thousand people, lies less than nine miles away from a volcano that, until last night, had been dormant for almost forty years. The crater of this particular volcano houses a lake, which has been a major tourist attraction for the town in the past decade. However, over the past thirty-eight years, vast amounts of carbon dioxide from the magma within the volcano far beneath the lake had been absorbed by the lake’s water. The lake’s water was eventually saturated with the poisonous gas, and last night the gas was expelled all at once in a cloud moving faster than ninety miles per hour. More than seventy percent of the town’s population was killed.” Dean whistled, turning back to Castiel. 

“That’s some weird shit,” he commented.

“Yes, very strange,” he nodded in solemn agreement, seeming very troubled by the news, “very unfortunate.” Dean nodded before returning to the two girls next to Castiel. One girl was helping Jo console the crying woman (even though Dean was pretty sure they were complete strangers – for some reason, drunk girls were some of the nicest, friendliest people he’d ever encountered), but the girl next to Castiel was eyeing Dean through her eyelashes, fingers playing with her empty glass.

“Doin’ alright?” he asked with a congenial smile. The girl smiled back at him eagerly, leaning forward and throwing her head back. They launched into small talk, and she watched with attentive, hooded eyes as Dean prepared her frozen margarita.

“You’re so good at that,” she gushed. “How long have you been a bartender?” 

“Well, if I told you that I might give away my age,” he winked, sliding the glass toward her before moving to serve the couple who had just sat down on the other side of Castiel. He prepared theirs with concentration, the energy flowing through him making itself a very big distraction. He was used to only feeling the pulse when he was alone near the tree (which wasn’t as often as he would like anymore, unfortunately); having to deal with people while his heart and wrists sang and pumped was very foreign. It also didn’t help that he was dealing with an unexpected blast from the past, who just so happened to be the cause of the sensation in his blood stream.

“So, you just gonna drink that water all night?” Dean asked, returning to Castiel. “Because I’d love to tell you all about the town, but you should at least let me get you a drink.” Castiel looked very conflicted, his blue eyes scanning Dean’s face as his hands spun his glass. 

“Okay,” he acquiesced finally. “What do you recommend?”

“Well, that depends,” Dean replied, leaning on the counter again. “Do you want something mild, do you want it to burn, or do you want it to taste good?”

“Alcohol can taste good?” he asked in what seemed to be genuine shock. An excited grin blossomed on Dean’s face.

“Castiel,” he stated, somehow staring into his eyes without melting into a puddle, “I am going to introduce you to the wonderful, underappreciated world of fruity drinks.” A small smile played at the corners of Castiel’s lips. Dean’s heart surged in his chest. He blamed the weird otherworldly mojo. “You want something sweet, sour, or tropical?” he asked, standing up in anticipation. 

“Surprise me,” he replied with a small shrug. Dean smirked.

“Blue Hawaiian it is,” he decided. Castiel eyed him warily as he turned around, a clear look of trepidation on his face, but he didn’t protest. “Shaken or stirred?” Dean asked as he began preparing the drink.

“Shaken?” Castiel replied, the answer phrased as more of a question. Dean smiled.

“Shaken it is.” He tried not to mess up, seeing as how he could physically feel Castiel’s eyes on him. He thought he did pretty okay, but he was having serious trouble concentrating. “You want an umbrella in it?” Dean offered playfully as he finished off the pineapple-cherry-skewer garnish. “We have pink, orange, green, blue, purple, and yellow.” Castiel narrowed his eyes at him.

“Why would I want a small umbrella in my drink?” he inquired, puzzled. Dean grinned.

“You’re definitely getting an umbrella.” Castiel threw his hands up in surrender.

“If you insist,” he conceded. Dean carefully placed an umbrella in the drink (bright pink, because if it was the guy’s first Blue Hawaiian, he was going to go all out), flaring it out and sliding it to Castiel. He looked at it like it was a frog he had to dissect for high school biology. 

“I’m not sure I want to ask what’s in this,” he stated baldly, eliciting a surprised laugh from Dean. He looked up, a smiling twitching at his lips again, apparently pleased with himself for making Dean laugh.

“It’s mainly rum and curacao, and I splashed some vodka in there too,” he told him. Castiel’s eyebrows drew together in uncertainty. “It also has a shit ton of pineapple juice and cream of coconut, so don’t worry, it tastes like a piña colada, not rubbing alcohol.” Cas nodded, returning his apprehensive gaze to the vibrant blue drink. He looked at Dean, who gave him an encouraging nod, before he took the bright green straw between his lips. He sipped slowly, his face a strange mix of reactions as he processed the drink. “What do you think?” Dean asked, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

“It’s pleasant,” he answered, surprised. Dean grinned victoriously and nodded. 

“Right?” he agreed proudly. Castiel gave him a small, private smile. Dean’s heart surged. Clearing his throat, he said, “Why don’t you come up with some things you wanna know about town? I’ll be right back.” Cas nodded, sipping at his drink once again. Dean totally did not watch the rise and fall of his throat, or how he licked his lips afterwards. He refilled the couple’s drinks, directing them to the nearest movie theater before returning to the girl with the margaritas and the flirty eyes. She made conversation with her as he wiped down the counter in front of her. 

“Do you work out?” she asked in an awed voice. Dean laughed to himself internally. No, he did not.

“Sometimes,” he lied. “I’m a mechanic during the day, so that’s a pretty good workout,” he told her. That part wasn’t a lie.

“You work with cars?” she clarified in an impressed tone, raising an eyebrow. “That must be hard work.” Dean shrugged modestly.

“Sometimes, but I enjoy it, so it’s usually not too bad.” 

“Maybe I could give you my number and you could come check out my car sometime,” she suggested in a low voice, batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair. Dean smiled as he dried the counter.

“Something tells me your car doesn’t need fixing,” he replied with a raised eyebrow, tossing the towel over his shoulder. The girl smiled at him.

“Well, then maybe I can just give you my number,” she smirked, raising a suggestive eyebrow. Dean sighed internally. He hated letting people down; he was pretty bad at it, and felt even more awkward.

“You know, under different circumstances I would love to, but I’m not really seeing people right now,” he explained, only sort of lying – sure, he hadn’t slept with anyone in a few weeks, but in all honesty he just wasn’t interested in her. Whether he was interested in the guy to her right was still unclear to Dean. “I’ve kind of got a lot going on at the moment. I’m sorry.” Which was true, but when was it not? He could’ve made time to sleep with her if he’d wanted to. He felt bad about lying, but she nodded understandingly.

“Don’t worry about it,” she assured him, not a trace of rancor in her voice. “We’ve all been there.” Dean smiled gratefully.

“I can tell you though, there’s a really cute bartender at a club a few blocks from here, and I’m like ninety percent sure he’s into chicks,” he told her. And boy, was Dean doing her a favor – he’d slept with the guy he was referring her too, and he did not disappoint. He was also pretty positive that he was also into women as well, Dean wouldn’t lie to the poor girl like that. He gave her directions, thanking her for the thirty dollar tip she left before she led her friend out of the bar. Man, did Dean love drunk tippers.

He returned to Castiel to find about a third of his drink gone. “Did you just direct someone to another bar?” he asked. “I can’t imagine your boss is happy about that.” Dean shrugged.

“The girl was looking for good sex,” he stated plainly. “I sent her to a guy who’s good at sex.” Castiel’s eyes widened momentarily. 

“I’m guessing this is coming from experience?” he guessed. Dean just winked, grinning in satisfied reminiscence. That had been a good night. 

“So, you think of anything you wanna know?” he asked. Castiel hesitated.

“You said your last name is Winchester?” he responded eventually. Shit. Does he remember me? Dean wondered, oddly nervous at the thought. He nodded tacitly. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Mary Winchester, would you?” he queried, almost nervously. Okay, he remembers mom, makes sense, he said to himself, mentally sighing in relief.

“She’s my mom, why?” he replied.

“I was in this area when I was much younger, about twenty years ago, and she was incredibly kind to me when I was in a difficult situation,” he explained. “And- and I never got to repay the kindness.” There was guilt in his voice; he was trying to hide it, but it was clear. Dean’s heart sank. Because yeah, he remembered. He remembered it all now. He remembered coming home to find a weird guy on his couch. He remembered the almost-kiss in the laundry room. And he remembered waking up to a note and comforting his mother who was crying because she was such a damn good person. Dean’s jaw clenched. He tried not to get angry, but he was also kind of glad to see that he felt guilty for leaving.

“Yeah, mom’s kind of a saint,” he replied, forcing a smile. He went to go help the couple and chatted with them for a bit, taking a steadying breath. He’d had time to think about the situation all those years ago after Castiel had left, and he’d come to sympathize with him – he was scared and confused, and Dean knew that if it were him he’d feel bad about taking things from people when he had nothing to give back to them, too. He returned to Castiel with a much clearer head. His head was hung and had him looking like a dog with its tail between its legs. Dean didn’t want him to look like that – what had happened wasn’t his fault. Losing all of his memories wasn’t his fault.

“If you wanna see her,” he began, watching Castiel’s eyes flicker up to meet his, “I can drive you to her house tomorrow,” he offered. “She’s definitely asleep by now, but if you give me your number and address we can probably work out a time we’re all free for me to take you over and see her.” Castiel’s face lit up.

“That would be amazing,” he breathed, beaming gratefully. “Thank you. Very much.” Dean just smiled and shrugged. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He got his phone out then, opening up to a new contact. “So, you got a phone number or what?” he asked. 

“Oh, yes,” Castiel replied, his voice stumbling a bit as he recited the digits. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean smiled. “I’ll text you so you have my number.”

“Of course,” he nodded. Then, after a pause he asked, “Was… was that flirtation?” Dean’s grin broadened, his cheeks warming up in a pleasant way.

“Pretty smooth, wasn’t it?” he joked with a prideful wink. Cas’s cheeks turned pink.

“Um, well it was effective, yes,” he stammered. Dean grinned; he was cute when he was flustered.

“Mom usually gets home from work around two on Saturdays,” he told him. “I don’t work the garage on Saturdays, so if you’re free tomorrow we could get lunch and then I could drive you to her place?” he suggested, hoping he wasn’t making it too obvious how nervous he was. 

“That would be lovely,” Cas agreed with a smile. “I’ll text you my address.” Dean beamed.

“Awesome.” 

 

By the end of the night Cas had gone home and Jo had collected far more tips than Dean, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The energy in his blood had left along with Castiel, but the after effects stayed with him as he fell asleep that night. He even took a walk to the tree the next morning for the first time in two weeks. He simply sat in the tree, reminiscing for upwards of an hour. He eventually got down though, his anticipation skyrocketing as noon (the time he’d arranged to pick up Cas) drew near. 

He checked and rechecked the address Cas had texted him the night before, his heart pounding as he rolled up to the quaint house on the edge of town. It was small and yellow, and it was oddly charming. The energy had been gradually flowing into him as he neared the house, but it was presently being mixed with plain old middle school nerves. Dean started typing out a text to let Cas know he was there when the brunette emerged from the front door, donning the same trench coat as the night before. Dean smiled out the rolled down window and waved, a strange but decidedly pleasant feeling pounding in his chest as Castiel smiled down at the sidewalk bashfully before lifting his head and returning Dean’s wave as he walked around the car. Dean had to remind himself that they weren’t actually going on a date; sure, he’d been flirting with him, and apparently Cas had caught onto that, but the main purpose of their outing was so that Cas could thank Mary for taking him in twenty years before. Dean wasn’t even sure they were going to be seeing much of each other after Cas sorted through his past mistakes or baggage or whatever.

But damn did he want to see him again.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greeted, sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala and shutting the door. 

“Heya, Cas,” he replied with a grin, starting the car and hoping Cas didn’t notice the way his hand faltered for a moment as he pulled onto the road, or the slight quiver of nerves in his voice. If he was going to be spending more time around this guy, he was going to have to learn how to get used to not only the alien energy that coursed through him and pounded in his chest every time he was near him, but also the teenage butterflies he gave him by being attractive and sweet and endearingly awkward. He would also someday like to know why he felt the same energy from Castiel as he felt from the tree, but that could be sorted out later. Rationally Dean knew he should probably be more curious about it, but for whatever reason it didn’t seem all too urgent.

“How are you?” Cas asked. It came out a little awkwardly, but Dean didn’t mind.

“I’m doing okay,” he answered, enjoying the small talk and, yes, even the lack of sureness of how to act. He hadn’t felt anything but attraction and lust for anybody in a while, and it was nice to feel nervous and excited around someone again. Crushes, while horrible, are simultaneously pretty fun and kind of amazing. Not that Dean had a crush on the other guy or anything, but he did have nice eyes, and a nice voice, and good manners, and he smelled nice. And despite them barely knowing each other, Dean liked him. “You?” he asked.

“I’m well, thank you,” he replied. “So, lunch. Where are we going?” Dean beamed; he was taking Cas to his favorite burger place in town. 

“I am taking you to have the best burger of your life,” he stated confidently with a smile. Cas raised his eyebrows in interest. 

“The best?” he repeated in amusement.

“The absolute best,” Dean assured him.

“Well, I better not be disappointed,” he joked with a small smile.

“Oh, you won’t be.” 

 

Dean would call it a success. “You weren’t lying,” Cas had said as he tasted the classic burger for the first time. When Dean prodded him to further share what he thought, Cas had replied with a contented smile, “These make me very happy.” A sappy smile had drawn itself across Dean’s face, his only thought being, Shit, he better not leave again. 

“So, any idea what you’re gonna say to my mom when you see her?” Dean asked as they drove across town toward his mother’s house. Cas let out a small, weathered sigh.

“Well, I suppose I’ll start by introducing myself,” he mused. “I doubt she’ll remember me.”

“You never know,” Dean replied. “I’ve never met a more genuinely caring person than my mom in my life; it’s definitely possible that she’ll remember you.”

“That might be worse,” Cas muttered, making Dean’s chest ache with empathy; he knew the guilt of leaving when you shouldn’t have, and he knew it too well. “I made a very rude departure.”

“I remember,” Dean confessed gruffly. “I remember you. I remember… that night.” Cas’s eyes widened, his lips falling into an “o” shape. He’d wanted to float it softer, but he couldn’t keep acting like he didn’t remember him – it wasn’t fair to Cas.

“I remember you, too,” Cas replied softly. “Dean, I am so sorry-”

“Don’t be,” Dean cut him off quickly. “Listen Cas, none of us blame you for what happened; not me, not Sam, and not my mom. We were scared like hell for you, sure, but we’re not mad.” Dean glanced over to find Castiel watching him with sad eyes. “I’m sure my mom will really appreciate you stopping by,” he added with a supportive smile. Cas reciprocated it weakly. 

“I hope so,” he replied, taking a deep breath as they rolled up to Mary’s house. Her car sat in the driveway, as Dean had expected.

“This is it,” Dean announced. “You want me to come in with you?” he offered. Cas’s eyes moved from the house to Dean and back to the house before he shook his head.

“Thank you, but I think I would like to do this by myself,” he answered. Then, turning back to look at Dean, he added sincerely, “But I would love to talk to you more. Catch up and… all that.” Dean smiled enthusiastically. 

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed. “Text me later, let me know how it goes.” Cas smiled and nodded before exiting the car.

“Goodbye, Dean,” he said quickly before shutting the door.

“See ya, Cas,” Dean called through the partially open window. He watched him make his way up the sidewalk, taking a breath and making an attemt to process everything that had happened within the previous fourteen or so hours. He watched Cas’s shoulders rise and fall before he pressed his finger to the doorbell. Dean noted the way his hands gripped at the ends of his coat sleeves ever so subtly, a motion that, when picked up on, was in stark contrast to his rigid posture. The door opened to reveal Mary still in her soft pink scrubs. 

Dean made himself drive away then; it wasn’t his place to be intruding on a private moment like that. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t glance over his shoulder at the stop sign to see his mother nodding enthusiastically at Castiel, recognition and an overwhelming mix of emotions in her eyes before she ushered him inside. 

Dean smiled and turned the corner. 

 

It was around 4:30 later that afternoon when Cas texted him.

Castiel: I think it went well.

Dean beamed when he saw the message. That’s great! he sent. Then, after a moment he sent, Can I call you? The affirmative reply came almost instantly, and Dean had the phone to his ear within seconds.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’s voice came from the other end of the line, cutting off the second ring.

“Hey, man,” Dean greeted him brightly. “So it went well?” he asked, eager to hear the details.

“Yes, I think so,” Cas answered. “She was incredibly kind and understanding. We talked for a while. It was nice.”

“Talk about anything interesting?” Dean inquired.

“We shared stories from the last twenty years,” Cas explained, “she asked about my family… If it’s all right with you I would appreciate continuing this conversation in person.”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” Dean agreed. “I have work tonight, but some friends and I go bowling on Sunday afternoons. You could come with us tomorrow, you know, if you want. We could get dinner afterwards?” He did his best to not let his voice betray the way his heart was racing. God, Dean wasn’t sure he’d been this nervous about a guy or girl since… well, since he was sixteen, and there was a gorgeous eighteen-year-old in his laundry room telling him he looked beautiful in the moonlight, and other sappy shit that Dean totally did not get a little fluttery-stomached thinking about, nor remember in vivid detail.

“Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding on your plans?” Cas asked hesitantly after a moment of tacit consideration. 

“Of course not!” Dean assured him. “It’ll be fun. They’re good people.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely,” Cas replied. Then, after another moment of thought, he finally said, “I’d love to join you.”

“Awesome!” Dean exclaimed, giddy with nerves. God, his legs were even weaker than the first time he asked Lisa Braeden on a date, or the first time he kissed a guy. “So uh, I’ll pick you up around 3:45?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Great. So uh, yeah, that’s great. That’s- good,” Dean stammered, flinching at himself. Real smooth, Dean. Good job, he berated himself. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean,” Cas spoke softly, a smile clear in his voice. 

“Yeah, you too,” Dean replied, cheeks still flaming. “See ya, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.” Dean looked at his phone for a moment before sliding it into his pocket, Cas’s voice ringing in his ears. He didn’t have to be at work until seven, and while he usually took a nap before eating dinner and leaving, right then he decided to go on a walk. He was restless, his stomach still whirring and fluttering. He also had the strong urge to spend an undetermined amount of time in the tree in the clearing, so he grabbed his keys and headed out to do just that.


	5. Chapter 5

The time passed far too quickly, two hours feeling closer to fifteen minutes as Dean climbed into the tree and got lost in thought. It wasn’t as easy to climb up at the age of thirty-six, and he sometimes feared he would hurt the tree, but he always made it without incident. 

He didn’t realize he was smiling while counting out his register until Jo called him out on you. “Ah, the sweet smell of dirty, questionable money,” she joked. “Sure puts a smile on a guy’s face.”

“It’s a beautiful thing,” he agreed, egging her on for the hell of it. She smiled and rolled her eyes.

“So, what’s got you so smiley?” she asked as she counted out her dimes. “You win the lottery or something?” Dean couldn’t help the amused and utterly smitten grin that split his face then.

“Something like that,” he replied, writing down the amount of bills he had. Jo’s mouth fell open, change forgotten.

“Oh my god,” she blurted, “you met someone. At first I thought you’d just gotten laid, but you really met somebody, didn’t you?” Dean gave that statement a joking look of consideration.

“Well, I met him twenty years ago technically,” he explained, fighting back another grin, “but yeah, I guess. I mean, we’re not like – dating, or anything, he just moved into town and knew my mom, so we went to lunch today and we’re going to dinner tomorrow,” he spilled. Jo raised her eyebrows.

“Wow. So you’ve actually got a crush on this guy then.” Dean rolled his eyes and brought his register out of the back room, walking into the bar and taking over for Ellen, Jo right behind him.

“Hey, look who decided to show up,” Ellen greeted them sarcastically with a fond roll of her eyes. “Do you two ever stop gossiping?” 

“Dean has a crush!” Jo chimed as she and Dean punched into their respective machines. Ellen’s eyebrows shot up. Dean glared at the young blonde, a playful mockery of pain of betrayal in his eyes.

“Who is it?” Ellen inquired, her interest piqued. “Anyone I would know?”

“Old flame from twenty years ago,” Jo answered for him, theatrically placing her hand on her chest. “He knew Mary, apparently.”

“You’ll have to bring him around here sometime,” Ellen told him, giving him a pointed look when she added, “soon.” Dean smirked to himself.

“He was here last night,” he revealed. Jo’s eyes widened.

“The hot guy in the trench coat?” she guessed incredulously. Dean nodded with a smug grin. “Dude, I’m rooting for you on that one.” Ellen shook her head and headed into the back room, leaving Jo and Dean alone at the presently empty bar. 

“Good, because he’s coming bowling with us tomorrow.” Jo’s eyes lit up.

“You’re bringing him bowling with us?” she asked excitedly. Dean nodded in confirmation. A mischievous grin began working itself across her face.

“Don’t do anything… weird,” he warned her in response. She smirked at him.

“Aw, are you worried I’ll embarrass you in front of your crush?” she teased. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Just, don’t make him uncomfortable, okay?” he requested, his voice more serious. 

“I’m not the one you should be worrying about,” she pointed out. “Tell that to Charlie.” 

“Oh god,” Dean muttered, remembering how Charlie had acted when Jo first brought her boyfriend, Mike bowling with them. She hadn’t said anything too wildly inappropriate, but she’d asked enough questions to make anyone uncomfortable. Weirdly enough, she started being a lot less interrogative and more genuinely interested when he brought up his fascination with insects. It wasn’t exactly Jo’s cup of tea, but as she’d pointed out to Dean, she had a knife collection, so she couldn’t really complain about her boyfriend’s strange interests. 

Yeah, their friends were all a little weird – Dean figured Cas would be fine. He’d just have to make sure Charlie behaved herself.

 

Dean really didn’t mean to end up texting Cas instead of working – he’d simply wanted to send him a picture of a cool – if unusual – car he was working on. However, Dean had captioned it, Dude look, someone brought the batmobile into the shop today, and when Cas had replied, I don’t see how that vehicle resembles a bat, Dean had no other choice but to dive into a lengthy discussion about pop culture. Unfortunately, that excuse didn’t fly too well with Bobby.

“You ever gonna get to workin’ on those cars,” he’d asked, “or are you gonna stand there on your phone for another three hours?”

“I’m working!” Dean exclaimed defensively. 

“So you’re fixing that Honda by texting your boyfriend?” Ellen chimed in as she made her way into the garage. She and Bobby had been married for three years, and had been helping each other out with their respective businesses for even longer. She smirked as Dean turned red. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean corrected her. She simply laughed at him and returned into the office. His cheeks got hotter.

“Just put the phone down and get to work,” Bobby muttered, shaking his head and walking elsewhere in the garage. Dean nodded curtly, slipping his phone into his pocket, feeling more than a little like a reprimanded child. 

He made sure Bobby wasn’t looking before quickly sending Cas a text saying he’d been busted and needed to go, but that he’d see him later.

 

Dean was tempted to say Cas was making fun of him for it when he picked him up later. “So,” he’d started after the pause following the formalities and greetings, “I got you in trouble at work?” he asked, a hint of a smirk in his voice as the corners of his lips twitched up slightly.

“You seem kind of proud of yourself for that,” Dean commented in a playfully accusing tone. Cas shrugged, his eyes never leaving Dean’s profile. His eyes were on the road as he drove, but he could feel the other’s gaze on him.

“I must admit, I do find it somewhat amusing,” he confessed. His smile softened then. “I’m also rather flattered you’d break the rules just to discuss movies with me.” Dean’s cheeks turned pink – because yeah, he never really texted people too much while at work, but he really liked talking to Cas.

“You know, I really think I was doing a community service,” he joked. “It should be a crime to have lived in this country as long as you have and not be at least a little familiar with Batman.” Cas smiled fondly at that.

“You truly are a hero.” Dean blushed at that. He looked over at Cas as they rolled to a stop at a red light, taking in the half-assed job he’d done of brushing his hair and the light stubble lining his jaw. He also noticed that he’d traded his trench coat for a red hoodie and his dress clothes for a green t-shirt and jeans. The change made Dean want him even more – he looked so good in Dean’s passenger seat, the casual look he was sporting making him look even more like he belonged right there next to Dean. 

“I hope I’m not underdressed,” Cas said after a moment.

“Nah, not at all,” Dean assured him, meeting his eye. “You look good.” They smiled at each other for a moment that was soon interrupted by the blaring of a horn behind them. Dean jumped, realizing belatedly that the light had turned green. He drove on, his face aflame as Cas sat next to him, smirking slightly out the windshield at the road before them.

They made casual conversation the rest of the way to the bowling alley, the words flowing naturally between them. However, as they parked and stepped out of the car, Dean noticed a change in Cas; he seemed lost and unsure, nervous even. “You ready?” Dean asked brightly, leading the way. Cas nodded slowly.

“Are you sure I’m not intruding?” he fretted aloud. 

“Don’t worry, they’re excited to meet you,” he reassured him, clapping him on the back. “The only thing I’d be worried about is them being overbearing.” He kept his hand on Cas’s back all the way to the door, which he then held open for Cas as they walked through.

“Hopefully you’re right,” he replied quietly, waiting for Dean to lead the way once again. Dean resisted the urge to slip his hand into Cas’s and thread their fingers together. He himself took a steadying breath as they rounded the corner, emerging into an area lit by multi-colored lights. Decade-old pop music was blasting, the sound of heavy bowling balls hitting slick wood and pins clattering filling in the background. Dean’s eyes scanned for his friends, finding them near the third and fourth to last lanes.

“They’re back there,” Dean told Cas, leading him toward the back. “You wanna get our shoes first?” Cas nodded tacitly, swallowing nervously. Dean led him to the shoe checkout, guiding him through the process.

“So what brings a pair of fellas like you ‘round these parts?” a feminine voice asked in a horrible southern accent as they accepted their shoes. Dean turned to see Charlie leaning against the counter, smiling up at them.

“Cas, this is Charlie,” Dean introduced them. “Charlie, Cas.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Cas said, nodding politely. Charlie beamed.

“I like you,” she stated approvingly before turning and leading the way back to the lanes, a bounce in her step and in her short red curls. Cas looked at Dean, a look which he returned with a simple shrug and fond grin before following his friend, Cas at his side.

“We always have one lane with bumpers and one without, so whatever you’re cool with,” he informed him as they approached the group. Cas nodded again as the other four turned to face them. “Cas, this is Aaron, Jo, Jo’s fiancé Matt, and Charlie’s wife Dorothy,” he stated, pointing to each respectively. “Everyone, this is Cas.” They all waved politely, smiling amicably.

“We sort of met the other night,” Jo cut in. “I was working the bar with Dean.” Cas nodded in recognition.

“Yes, I remember you,” he said. “It’s nice to formally meet you.” Then, to the rest of the group, “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you as well.” Similar sentiments were reciprocated amongst the group.

“All right bitches, are we gonna get this thing started or what?” Charlie asked, bounding up to the outdated machine where each player typed in their name. “All those who require bumpers, form a line behind me!” she said. Dean smiled, heading for the adjacent machine.

“Dean,” Cas spoke softly, following his steps, “I don’t believe I’ve ever bowled before.” Dean turned to him, his eyebrows raised.

“Really?” he asked. “Never?”

“Well, perhaps before the age of eighteen, but never after that,” he answered unsurely. Dean nodded understandingly.

“Well, I’d be honored to teach you,” he smiled. “Just hop on Charlie’s line, I’ll show you the ropes once we get started.” Cas nodded, making his way to stand behind Charlie, Aaron, and Matt. Jo and Dorothy got in line behind Dean as he entered the name DRAGONLORD into the computer. It soon showed up in the first slot on the scoreboard screen above the line of the lanes.

“So, the bumpers make the game easier?” Dean heard Cas ask after a moment. 

“You’ve never bowled before?” Matt guessed. Dean stepped back and let Jo enter her name, watching Cas nod in response to Matt’s question. “Yeah, the bumpers are those black things on the sides of the lane. They keep the ball in the lane so that it doesn’t roll into the gutter every time.” Cas nodded in understanding, looking where Matt pointed. Dean smiled slightly, happy to see Cas was getting along with his friends just fine so far.

Cas then looked up at the screens, his brow furrowing in confusion. Charlie had entered her name as THE QUEEN and Aaron had named himself THE MESSIAH. Jo had entered herself in as THE REAL SLIM SHADY. 

“Is it customary to give yourself a nickname?” he inquired in confusion.

“Not at all,” Dorothy cut in as she entered her name, plain and simple. “They’re all just nerds.” 

“Hey, you can’t talk about the queen that way,” Charlie cut in, crossing her arms jocularly at her wife. Matt entered himself as PRAYING MANTIS. Castiel decided to stick with his own name that round. 

“I still can’t believe you choose to name yourself after an over-glorified grasshopper,” Jo teased. Matt rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to correct her, but Cas beat him to it. 

“Actually, praying mantises are quite different than grasshoppers,” he said. “Praying mantises are often mistaken for grasshoppers and other phasmids, but while grasshoppers are herbivorous, praying mantises are actually carnivores.” This load of information brought an array of reactions; mainly there was a mix of impressed looks with a hint of confusion and surprise, but from Matt Cas received a look akin to amazement and maybe even a little adoration. 

“Thank you!” he exclaimed. “No one ever listens when I tell them how amazing they are!”

“Oh, they’re fascinating,” Cas agreed, his eyes going wide with excitement and passion as he and Matt plunged into a conversation about the different camouflage techniques of the praying mantis, and how important it was to keep them safe. Dean watched on fondly, completely taken by the way Cas was moving his hands, a small smile on his lips and striking enthusiasm in his bright cerulean eyes. 

“Looks like we’ve both got ourselves some nerds,” Jo commented quietly to Dean. He got a bit flustered in response to that, not sure how to react; he and Cas weren’t together, and Dean still wasn’t sure exactly how to act around him, or how to not act like a teenage girl.

“All right, how ‘bout we get this going, huh?” he suggested loudly, taking a red fifteen pound ball from the rack and stepping up to the line. Charlie took a pink ten pound ball, starting off her game. He looked over at Cas, but not wanting to interrupt the conversation he was clearly enjoying having with Matt he decided to just go. He stepped up to the line, swinging his arm back gently and releasing the ball as he brought it forward, watching it roll down the center of the lane, veering slightly to the left. He got seven out of ten down. He turned and got another fifteen pounder and noticed Cas watching him then with slight fascination in his eyes. Dean smiled at him and motioned for him to come over to him. Cas stood from the chair he’d been sitting in then, making his way to Dean. 

“Did you see how I did it before?” Dean asked.

“Sort of,” Cas replied, sheepishly admitting, “I was still fairly engrossed in my conversation with Matt.” Dean smiled.

“You into bugs, too?” he inquired. 

“Well, nature and ecology as a whole, really,” Cas answered. Dean nodded.

“Hey, Dragonlord,” Jo called, “you gonna finish your turn any time soon?” Dean rolled his eyes then, but lifted his ball.

“All right, so first of you put these fingers in the holes,” he instructed Cas, showing him. Cas’s face twisted in response.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” he asked.

“Not if you have the right ball and the right grip.” Cas nodded, signaling Dean to go on. “Okay, so then you walk up to the line, line up your shot, and draw your arm back,” he explained, slowly going through the motions, hyper-aware of Cas’s eyes on him. “Then you bring your arm forward, release and follow through. Like this.” Cas took a step back and watched as Dean went through the motions, releasing the ball and following through. The ball rolled down the lane, knocking down two of the three pins that were left. 

“Ooh, so close,” Jo taunted as Dorothy shook her head in mock disapproval. Dean rolled his eyes, smiling good-naturedly. 

“I thought that was very impressive,” Cas told him quietly as they returned to the chairs, Jo and Aaron stepping up to have their turns. Dean grinned fondly at him.

“Not my best,” he shrugged, “but thanks.” Turning his attention to the board, he saw that Charlie had gotten all ten down in her two turns.

“Hey, Cas,” Aaron called, “if you’re just beginning, I think my method is pretty effective with the advantage of bumpers. I call it the pinball machine.” Dean shook his head and smirked, but Cas watched on intently. “It goes like so.” Aaron then approached the line, practically throwing the ball underhand at the center of the lane. It crashed against one bumper, the force of which made it fly into the parallel bumper. It came to a slower roll then, but it collided with the center pin, knocking down all the pins at once. Aaron threw his arms up in the air, mocking the roar of a crowd. Cas’s eyebrows rose.

“That seemed like it was a very good method,” he commented. Aaron shrugged, smiling proudly.

“It’s an art,” he replied. Cas smiled as Matt retrieved a twelve pound ball. An exclamation from Jo drew both Dean and Cas’s attention as they watched the rest of the pins from her lane be collected into the machine.

“Now that’s how you bowl,” she boasted proudly, sauntering back to sit with Dean and Cas. Dorothy smirked, lifting a fifteen pound ball out of the machine that returned them. Dean watched Cas as he watched Dorothy, her form flawless as she stepped toward the line, a look of confident determination on her face. She drew back and released, the ball rolling swiftly down the lane, colliding dead on with the center pin. She turned around with a triumphant smirk, not even watching as all ten pin simultaneously fell.

“No, young Joanna,” she teased Jo, “that is how you bowl.” Jo rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

“That was very good,” Cas offered, genuinely impressed by Dorothy’s skill.

“Why, thank you,” she replied, curtsying despite the fact that she was wearing skinny khakis. Dean and Cas turned their attention to Matt who was on his second roll. He had four pins left, and he managed to get two down. He shrugged, accepting his accomplishment.

“All right Cas, you’re up,” Dean announced, clapping him on the shoulder and standing up. Cas got up and followed him. Dean could tell he was nervous, and he really didn’t blame him – since it was Dean’s turn on the other lane, everyone was watching him. “You wanna start with a ten, twelve, or fifteen?” he asked. Cas assessed his options before going for the red fifteen pound ball. He held it in his hands the way Dean had shown, but he was clearly unused to it. “All right, now step up to the line,” he instructed, walking with him. “Line up your shot… Draw your arm back,” he continued. Cas did so effortlessly, keeping his grip on the ball and looking to Dean for approval. “Good,” he commended. “Now just bring it forward and release around here,” he exhibited with an imaginary ball. He watched as Cas’s face pinched in concentration as he brought his arms forward and released the ball. It went even further than Aaron’s, landing about three fourths down the lane with a harsh thud that made Cas cringe. They watched as it bounced off the bumper and knocked down five pins on the left side. “All right, not bad,” Dean commented.

“I think that was a bit too forceful,” Cas stated, his brow furrowed.

“Yeah, maybe we should get you a twenty pounder,” Dean chuckled, retrieving a green twenty pound ball from the rack and handing it to Cas. He slipped his fingers in, adjusting his grip again. He repeated the motions, releasing more carefully this time. The ball landed and rolled more nicely, but it still hit off the bumper and only knocked down two more pins. Cas frowned, but it was more confused than anything. “Not bad,” Dean nodded approvingly. 

“Dude, you’re strong as shit,” Aaron commented. Something pleasant stirred in the pit of Dean’s stomach as he watched Cas smile bashfully in response to the compliment.

“Thank you,” he replied modestly, making his way back to the chairs. Dean grinned fondly at him for a brief moment before making his way back to his lane to complete his turn.

Yeah, things were going pretty well.

 

They ended up playing three rounds, two of which Dorothy won, one Jo; Dean came in second every time. Cas actually ended up winning his third round, which made Dean’s chest swell with a strange sense of pride; seeing Cas smile like that, like he was proud of himself but didn’t want to reveal so, made it hard for Dean to breathe.

The two of them said their goodbyes afterward, leaving together and deciding that pizza was a good choice for dinner. Dean was practically buzzing he entire ride there.

“You seem happy,” Cas commented between bites of pizza. Dean smiled softly.

“I am,” he shrugged. 

“So am I,” Cas replied with a contented grin. “I had fun. You’re friends are very kind.” Dean nodded in agreement, silently elated that Cas liked his friends. He was also grateful that their behavior hadn’t been too terrible.

“I could tell Matt was happy to have someone to talk about his bugs with,” Dean remarked. 

“He’s very educated on the topic,” Cas responded, eyes growing slightly wider with excitement. “I was very impressed. Although, I don’t know why more people aren’t as interested in bugs; they’re quite fascinating.” 

“You got a favorite?” Dean inquired, surprising even himself with his genuine curiosity; who knew he’d one day be sat with the fantasy of his teen years discussing bugs over pizza?

“Well, I love bees,” Cas shared. “They’re so vital for human life. We’d all be dead if it weren’t for bees pollinating the plants we live off of. I actually spent six summers working on a bee farm, watching the process… it’s all very fascinating and mind blowing in its order and efficiency. I’m still very heavily into beekeeping.” Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” And thus launched an in-depth conversation (or lesson really) about the patterns of bees, their jobs and relations, and everything under the moon there was to know about bees.

“I apologize for rambling,” Cas said as they got up to leave. “I realize that bees probably aren’t the most riveting topic of conversation.”

“You know, they’re actually a lot cooler than I thought,” Dean assured him, “so thanks for showing me that they’re not just stupid assholes who sting people for no reason.” Dean savored the small smile Cas gave in response to that. They’d both been so invested in the conversation that neither of them had realized it had begun to pour until they were about to head outside. “Bet you’re regretting not bringing your coat,” Dean grinned playfully as he opened the door. Cas shrugged stepping through the threshold. 

“I don’t mind the rain,” he stated, a small, appreciative grin growing on his face. “I actually rather like it.” Dean couldn’t control the grin that overcame his face as he placed his hand on the small of Cas’s back, leading him to the Impala. He felt Cas intake a breath at the touch, but he didn’t seem to mind, so Dean went with it. 

“I guess it’s good for the plants,” he agreed, opening the passenger door for Cas. He slid in, nodding his thanks to Dean. He then rounded the car and got in himself, shivering slightly as he turned the car on. “So, uh,” Dean began a bit awkwardly as a classic rock riff filtered through the speakers of the Impala. “I don’t know if you’ve got anything going on tomorrow, or if you’ve gotta get home and do stuff tonight, but if you’re free, you’re welcome to come over to my place,” he offered, his nerves probably very clear in his pink cheeks if not his slightly wavering voice. Cas smiled at him.

“That would be nice,” Cas consented. “I would like very much to catch up on the past twenty years.” Dean smiled at him before putting the car in reverse.

“My apartment it is then.” 

 

Nerves (which he knew were stupid, but that he couldn’t control) crept up on Dean as they climbed the steps – his heart rate picked up slightly and he fumbled with his keys to the point where he nearly dropped them. If Cas noticed, he didn’t say anything. “Well, this is it,” Dean announced as if on an HGTV show or MTV’s Cribs as they pushed into the entry hall. “To your right you’ll find the bathroom, the left is a closet.” As they progressed forward he went on to inform him, “Now on your right is the kitchen, straight ahead and a bit to the left it the living room, and to the right of that is the bedroom.”

“This is very nice,” Cas commented sincerely, looking around and taking in his surroundings. Dean’s various coats hung on the rack on the wall to the left. As they entered the living room, Dean watched with his hands in his pockets as Cas circled the room, briefly observing each case of records, CD’s, video games, and movies. 

“It’s not really much, but it’s home,” Dean shrugged.

“You have quite an impressive collection,” Cas remarked, returning to Dean and facing him. Dean shrugged again, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Castiel, this strange force of nature whose face remained behind Dean’s eyes all day, who radiated an otherworldly energy that made Dean feel like he was flying within himself, was standing in his living room, filling his slightly cramped apartment with his physical glow of power that Dean couldn’t explain. Thinking about it, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted it explained.

“I can take your sweatshirt,” he offered, stating obviously, “It’s wet.”

“Oh,” Cas replied, as if he hadn’t even noticed how damp his hoodie had become. He shrugged out of it, handing it to Dean. “Thank you,” he smiled, evoking an involuntary explosion of butterflies within Dean’s stomach.

“Yeah, no problem,” he said, taking a discreet breath as he walked back into the hall and hung the now dark red sweatshirt up. “You want anything to drink?” he called into the living room.

“Water would be lovely, thank you,” Cas answered, still wandering in a small circle about the minimal space. Dean watched him for a moment before slipping into the kitchen to retrieve two glasses of water. He took a moment to smile to himself, the buzz under his skin so incredibly reminiscent of the comforting warmth of the tree’s energy; he felt ready to close his eyes and forget the world for a few hours.

But he wasn’t sitting up in his tree in the clearing, and he wasn’t a teenage boy running from the stresses of school and seeking comfort. He was thirty-six, and there was a beautiful man in his living room who seemed more like a clap of thunder than anything human. Dean made his way back into the living room to find Cas standing at the window, gazing out at the storm. 

“This rain is magnificent,” he commented dreamily as Dean set the two glasses of water on the table.

“You a fan of storms?” Dean asked, walking up to stand beside him.

“I love them,” Cas confirmed. “They’re beautiful, in a way… powerful. You have to respect a storm, no matter the kind.” As Dean looked harder though, he noticed a worried crease in Castiel’s brow. “You know, often in literature rain represents rebirth.” His voice was even as he said it, factual, but Dean felt there was some underlying second meaning he couldn’t quite understand, something Cas was saying that wasn’t translating. So Dean just gave a simple returning hum. A bright flash of lightning danced through Cas’s azure eyes, dramatizing his sharp features. Thunder rumbled distantly in the background a few breaths afterward. It sounded more ominous to Dean than hopeful, but he wasn’t about to question Cas’s vague literary commentary. 

“Yeah, I like storms too,” Dean agreed, tearing his eyes from Cas’s profile to appreciate the heavy droplets crashing to the asphalt, bouncing off the hoods of cars and rolling off the tips of the leaves sprouting from tree branches. “Maybe if we’re lucky it’ll last all night.”

“I believe it’s supposed to,” Cas replied, now sounding more transparently worried. “I heard it’s only going to get worse.”

“Hopefully it won’t be too bad,” Dean said, making his way to the couch. Cas caught his movement out of the corner of his eye and followed, taking a seat next to him. “I don’t know if you remember, but there was this crazy windstorm the night you stayed with us,” Dean began, his mouth a bit dry and his heart beat picking up almost imperceptibly, not sure whether or not it was a good decision to finally address the elephant in the room. Cas nodded.

“I remember. It was a bit difficult to navigate,” he recalled with a rueful quirk of his lips. Dean chuckled at that.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” he responded. He began to wonder, not for the first time, how he’d made it through the storm, but he didn’t ask. He wanted answers, sure, but far more than that he wanted to get to know Castiel, and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. So he redirected the conversation away from that night and asked, “So, did you get up to much after that? Besides the summers of beekeeping, that is.”

“Well, I travelled quite a bit after the incident,” Cas answered. “Working odd jobs and living in shelters, helping however I could. It was a strange experience – the whole world to travel, yet so confined by circumstance.” Dean nodded empathetically – he knew exactly what Cas meant, even if his application of the feeling was a bit different. His honesty about his situation after losing his memory was a bit of a shock to Dean, but it was nice to have someone open up to him. He was more than willing to listen, and to his surprise, he found he was even inspired to share some of his past with Cas.

“Yeah, I’ve been there,” Dean said, telling Cas about how he opted out of going to college and worked in town for a few years before embarking on his cross-country endeavor. He told him about Benny, whom he still kept in touch with, and all the good times they had between them.

“It sounds like you were very happy,” Cas noted. “Why did you come back to Lawrence?”

“I missed it,” Dean answered after a steadying breath, the rest of the full truth sitting heavy in his chest. “I missed my family, my friends… I got into some shit out west, and I had a lot of loose ends back here that I needed to tie up…” he trailed off with another shrug. His throat felt tight; he hadn’t talked about all the mistakes he’d made for years. He didn’t much like talking about it, but he felt like an open book around Castiel – he felt inexplicably safe, which was simultaneously comforting and extremely terrifying.

“I wish I had found a way to go to school,” Cas reminisced. “So many experiences I could’ve had. I don’t even have memories about high school…” He stared off past Dean for a moment before refocusing his eyes on Dean’s. “Do you ever regret not going?”

“All the damn time,” Dean admitted. “But I did it for my mom, and for Sammy, so that makes it all worth it. And yeah, sometimes I wonder what I could’ve been had I gone to college, but I’m happy.” He smiled to himself softly. “So yeah, I regret it a little now and then, but I’ve come to accept it.”

“That’s a very progressive outlook,” Cas smiled softly. 

 

“What about you?” Dean inquired. 

“I suppose I’m happy,” Cas said after a moment. “I finally have a house, a town to live in.” He smiled meaningfully at Dean then. “I have someone to talk to, which I haven’t always had, so that makes me happy.” Dean flushed red at that, unable to contain his grin. “But I do wish I’d gone to school. I’d sit for hours in libraries all across the country, reading as much as I could before they kicked me out.” His voice began to take on a wistful quality as he smiled reminiscently. 

“I can definitely see you getting kicked out of a library.” Cas smiled at Dean’s comment in a vaguely victorious, smug way.

“It’s definitely happened upwards of thirty times,” he confessed, almost bragging. Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“Thirty?” he repeated.

“More than thirty,” Cas corrected.

“When was the last time?” Dean inquired. Cas squinted into the distance, his head tilted pensively. Dean thought it was absolutely adorable. 

“Two months ago?” he answered unsurely. Dean snorted.

“Who knew you were such a trouble maker?” he teased, shaking his head. “It’s always the quiet ones.” Cas smiled coyly at that.

“Have you ever gotten kicked out of anywhere?” he asked, turning his body toward Dean. He mirrored the action as he barked out a laugh.

“Have I ever been kicked out of anywhere?” he asked incredulously. Cas nodded, apparently eager to hear about the stories swirling in Dean’s head. “All right, the first few times were just in middle school loitering around candy shops, nothing exciting. Then you have all the times I was kicked out for fake ID’s, the few bar fights-”

“Bar fights?” Cas broke in, a mix of concern and amusement. Dean grinned proudly.

“Hell yeah. There was this one time I was in a bar in Tucson…” he began, detailing a story about the worst brawl he’d ever been in. There was broken glass, wooden stools cracked over heads, and at least eleven guys besides Dean ended up in the local police station that night, bruised, bleeding, and a few possibly concussed. As he recounted the tale, he and Cas had gradually moved closer together, Cas leaning in with interest as Dean leaned forward for dramatic effect. 

“Were you seriously hurt?” Cas asked. It was only when Dean felt his breath lightly breach his face that he realized how close they’d become. Dean shrugged.

“I was better than the other guys,” he beamed. He then made the mistake of staring into Cas’s eyes and really looking at them. They were filled with beams of blue light, the dim lighting from the cloudy night outside casting shadows across them as the weak living room light captured the multitude of colors in them. “You have amazing eyes,” Dean murmured, his heart racing. They were barely touching, only their knees in contact with each other, but he felt electrified across every inch of his skin. Cas smiled softly.

“I don’t know if I got the chance to tell you twenty years ago,” he said softly, he movement of his soft pink lips momentarily distracting Dean from his eyes, “but you’re beautiful.” Dean sucked in a breath, entranced once again by Cas’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “you mentioned that, actually. You know, twenty years ago.” He gave a weak attempt at a humorous smile then, his chest constricting. Lighting flashed outside the window as energy shot through Dean. A thought came to him and his heart thumped in his throat because oh god, he was going there. “But uh, there was something you didn’t do that night.” Thunder boomed loudly outside the window as Cas’s lips slowly formed a small smirk.

“What was that again?” he asked, his voice somehow sincere through its playful, flirtatious tone. His eyes mapped Dean’s face as the latter gulped.

“You refused to kiss me,” he reminded him, his voice finding some strength. He pouted. “It really hurt my feelings,” he joked. Cas’s smile softened then, his eyes meeting Dean’s before falling to his lips.

“While I don’t agree that the word ‘refuse’ is the most fitting word, I do apologize for disappointing you so,” he replied with a jovial grin. “I guess it’s good I’ve got a chance to make that up to you.” And then he was leaning in, and thunder was rumbling in Dean’s veins, lightning striking every nerve as their faces got closer and closer. His breath caught as their lips connected.

It was soft, hesitant. They were still for a moment, still trying to figure out how it felt, trying to savor it. Dean hadn’t realized how long he’d been waiting for this moment until it was right in front of him. It felt ridiculous, because he’d only really spent a few days total with him, but he’d spent two decades with some part of him longing for Cas’s touch and affection. He hadn’t been able to pinpoint what it was, as his memory of Castiel had been buried, quiescent in the back of his mind for nearly twenty years. But when he’d walked into the bar, trench coat billowing behind him slightly, something in Dean knew that there was… something. He could tell something important was happening. Kissing Cas felt important, yet blissfully effortless and natural despite the way they were testing the water like nervous teenagers. 

And he still didn’t know everything. He still didn’t know why he could feel an energy emanating from Cas, or why he could feel that same energy seeping from an old oak tree in a small clearing near his childhood home. But he knew there was a beautiful man on his couch, a guy who valued knowledge and the lives of bees more than most people, a guy who was unfairly endearing in his little mannerisms, and his lips were on Dean’s. And fuck, maybe it was a little fast, but Dean felt like he’d been waiting for eternities to feel the kiss of Cas’s lips. 

They pulled back, hooded eyes locking for a moment. Then Cas’s hands were cupping Dean’s face, and Dean could feel the soft yet firm give of Cas’s sides under his thin t-shirt as his hands slid down to his hips, their lips coming together again, much more sure this time.

It wasn’t rough or desperate, but there was a passion there: a sigh of a relief; a feeling of breaching a finish line; a finally. 

The two pulled apart once again, catching the breaths they’d forgotten to take. “I’m really glad you decided to come back to Lawrence,” Dean confessed in a breath. Cas nodded, smiling at Dean in a way that should’ve been entirely too fond.

“As am I,” he agreed. “I’m very happy.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Explicit Sexual Content

Cas ended up sleeping on Dean’s couch that night, as they both agreed the storm was too harsh to try to go out in; as the night went on, the winds got worse, and the amount of rain was consistent and unyielding. Despite the violence of it, the storm lulled Dean to sleep. There was also a pleasant thrum coursing throughout him, Cas being just a room away; whether it was his presence that was having a physical effect on him or simply the knowledge that he was on the other side of the wall Dean wasn’t sure, but he was glad for the company. It was a bit of a jarring change, as Dean didn’t have people over often. It was definitely not unpleasant, though – quite the opposite, actually. 

In fact, he even had more pleasant dreams than usual. Granted, he didn’t have nightmares all that often anymore, and it was probably just a coincidence, but he felt unusually safe, even while unconscious. He dreamt of dinners with Mary, Sam, and Jess. He dreamt of sleepovers with Charlie and weekly bowling with his friends. He dreamt of his days living and travelling with Benny. He dreamt of spring afternoons spent in an old yet impossibly young oak tree hidden away in a small, open patch of overgrown green grass. Cas even made a cameo, but he was more in the peripheral; there was more an essence of him rather than a presence. 

Dean woke up feeling refreshed for the first time he could really remember. Honestly, he thought the whole “waking up refreshed” thing was a bullshit myth; he’d woken up excited before, sure, but never with a blissed out feeling, ready to go do yoga and eat berries or some shit. But right then he felt he might be up for some sunrise meditation.

He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stretched before standing up. The sun wasn’t even up, but he had no strong desire to go back to sleep. The clock beside his bed read 5:18 AM. He listened to the rain pound incessantly on his window, low rumbles of thunder sounding in the distance. He also heard the buzz of the TV coming from the other room.

He padded into the next small hallway, leaning against the wall of the living room. Cas was sitting cross-legged on the couch, the sheet and blanket Dean had provided for him the night before pooling around his waist. The newscast he was watching was reporting devastating earthquakes in central Asia, as well as the effects of the aftershocks and smaller earthquakes across the continent. “It makes you feel helpless, doesn’t it,” Cas spoke suddenly, his voice extremely weathered and solemn. He turned his head then to Dean, who hadn’t know Cas had heard him come in. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” Dean shook his head.

“Nah, you’re good,” he assured him, walking over and sitting down next to him, situating himself beneath the blankets. His heart leapt as Cas’s eyes danced across his face, the smell of crisp, clean water and the air on the open sea filling his senses. Dean blushed furiously when Cas leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, but he was also grinned like an idiot.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his face still mere inches from Dean’s. All Dean could do was nod and grin.

“The couch wasn’t too terrible?” he inquired back. Cas smiled softly, shaking his head.

“Not at all. It was lovely,” he answered. He then scooted closer, nestling his head into the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean instinctively wrapped his arm around Cas’s shoulder, pleasantly surprised by his sudden bout of physical affection – it was a side of him Dean hadn’t previously seen, or expected.

“Do you have work today?” Cas asked, playing with the sheet between his fingers. The news was then talking about extreme flooding in Texas and Oklahoma, which was working its way up into Kansas. 

“Probably – people get really freaked when there are bad storms, and they stock up on gas and want to know how to not break their cars,” he sighed. “So yeah, we’ll be pretty busy. But at least it’s good business.” Cas hummed in response. “What about you?” Dean asked, realizing then that he had no idea what Cas’s profession was. “You got work today?”

“I work from home and make my own hours,” he shared, explaining, “I own a small honey company with a man named Cain. He originally hired me to work out his finances, as I have experience with math and accounting and other somewhat related fields, but we found we worked well together and became business partners. Now I help run the business from home and tend to the bees whenever I like. The farm’s not far from here, I could take you sometime.”

“Your bees gonna be okay in the storm?” Dean asked. Cas frowned.

“I’ve been worrying about that,” he admitted. “They can get very worn out in the rain, and it can be quite harmful to them; they even get a bit restless, since they’re not able to go out and pollinate – especially Cleopatra’s workers, they’re overachievers. But I trust Cain to protect them. He lives on the farm, so he’s always there, and he knows what’s best for them.” Dean grinned at just how much Cas truly seemed to care about the bees and their lives, not just the work they did and the product they produced.

“You named one of the queen bees Cleopatra?” Dean asked in fond amusement.

“Many of them are named after queens – modern, historical, and fictional,” Cas confirmed. Dean kissed the top of his head, the action inspired by nothing more than a pure surge of affection and the simple desire to. 

“You’re something else, you know that?” Cas smiled into Dean’s shoulder at the remark. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good, that’s what it was intended as.” They sat there for a few more moments as the news went on to detail city traffic, enjoying the company of one another. Dean ran his thumb absently over Cas’s shoulder. When the clock read 5:35 he decided it was time to start getting ready.

“All right, well I think it’s time for me to shower,” he sighed, carefully (and remorsefully) removing himself from Cas and standing from the couch. 

“Are you sure the roads are safe to drive on?” Cas asked as he sat up, voice full of concern. 

“Bobby’s reasonable,” Dean replied, retrieving his towel from where it hung on the back of his bedroom door. “If he think it’s too dangerous, he’ll call off work.” Cas sunk back then, nodding in acceptance. Dean ran his hand across Cas’s shoulders as he passed him, making his way to the window. There was some water on the roads, and it was still raining, but it definitely wasn’t anything major. “Yeah, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” he assured him again, heading for the shower. “I think I’m gonna keep Baby in the shop until the weather gets better and take out the truck from the garage though.” He turned to find Cas smiling at him in slightly puzzled amusement.

“Did you just refer to your car as ‘Baby’?” he asked. Dean blushed slightly.

“I am not ashamed of the love that car and I share,” he replied simply before slipping into the bathroom, Cas shaking his head behind him. He took a moment to collect himself, taking a deep breath and allowing a giddy grin to take over his face. 

 

He drove Cas home before going to work, taking the drive very slowly due to the inclement weather (as well as Cas’s obvious trepidation toward said weather). He didn’t mind though; it was nice just driving through town with Cas by his side, low music and the fall of rain filling the silence, which was surprisingly comfortable. Dean felt Cas looking at him a few times during the drive, his head lolling slightly against the seat. Dean chanced a glance back at him once or twice, smiles perking up on both of their faces when their eyes met. 

“I’m glad I know you,” Cas said as they neared his street, making Dean blush. It wasn’t even an extremely personal or in depth compliment, but it was genuine, and it invoked a feeling of affection ad gratitude in Dean’s core.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, surprising himself yet again as he let the words, “I’m pretty happy I know you, too,” fall from his lips. 

Cas leaned in to kiss him goodbye before emerging from the dry safety of the car into the harsh rain. Dean watched as he walked up to the door, not at all bothered by the rain despite the fact that the only protection he had was a thin hoodie. He smiled, the sensation of Cas’s lips still lingering on his own. As Cas smiled and waved to him before going inside, Dean thought he could really get used to having him around. 

 

Dean felt like he was in high school again. He tried not to get distracted at work, but then Cas would send him a selfie at his bee farm, or would ask Dean his opinion on the purchase of light pink dress pants, and Dean couldn’t help but smile to himself and get sucked into a conversation. 

The storms came on and off, but they only started to get really bad after a few weeks. The shop was crazy busy with people having irrational, needless concerns, and the bar was either more crowded than ever or a ghost town, no in between. Still, Dean made time for Mary and his friends, and he started making plenty of time for Cas.

They were lying on Dean’s couch together one night watching a History Channel documentary about ancient Egypt when Dean fell asleep. He awoke tangled up with Cas, and from then on they tacitly agreed to sleep in the same bed whenever they stayed overnight at one another’s homes.

Cas’s house was simple, but nice. It smelled light and fresh, like fresh laundry, yet heavy and heady with sweetness; each step was different. He also had light blue wallpaper around the entire house, a pinstripe between matte and lustrous paper. Oh, except the bathroom. The bathroom was painted a bright yellow, and Cas only bought organic shampoo and body wash. Or maybe you could use it in a river and it was environmentally friendly or something. Dean wasn’t sure. All Dean knew was that it smelled really nice, like rosemary and something flowery, and it was only sold at a small market near Cas’s bee farm, which was a little over an hour out of Lawrence. 

Cas actually took Dean to visit the bee farm one Monday, when the weather was permitting. It was nice and open, with a lining of trees and a small, quaint cottage where Cas said his business partner, Cain lived. Any other honey farm probably wouldn’t have seemed that great to Dean, but he could tell Cas was not only proud of it, but that he genuinely loved the land and the bees, and that made Dean think it was one of the best plots of land he’d ever seen. (And yes, there was a “the bee’s knees” joke made, which made Cas smile and shake his head before kissing Dean and fondly mocking him for the cheapness of the joke.)

It was later that night when Cas asked Dean what exactly their relationship was. “I’ve never really been in an actual relationship,” he’d confessed once they agreed that “boyfriend” was an appropriate term for one another. “I’ve tried, but they’ve never really interested me. Not until I met you, that is.” The admission made Dean’s heart skip a beat before pounding rapidly – his head was spinning a bit with the weight of it. All he could do was kiss him and “joke” about how he would try not to disappoint him. 

However, that night when they were lying in Cas’s bed, Dean said softly, “I want you to know that it means a lot to me… what you said earlier, about never really wanting a relationship before… I’m just glad you shared that, I guess. So, thanks.” Cas just wrapped his arms tighter around Dean, who splayed his fingertips across Cas’s chest. 

“You mean a lot to me,” Cas had murmured softly against the back of Dean’s neck, an electric current zinging through Dean as Cas pecked the skin there. An instant later he felt completely serene. He melted back into Cas’s embrace and was asleep in seconds.

Presently, Dean and Cas were unloading groceries into Dean’s fridge. Dean had work in a few hours, so Cas had offered to help him with some errands. (Also, he and Dean had been spending pretty much every moment they could together.) Dean heaved an accomplished sigh as they finished, turning to Cas and running his fingers through his rain-dampened, wind-mussed hair. It really didn’t do much, but he reveled in the way Cas leaned into his touch. “Whaddaya say,” he said, pulling Cas in for a kiss by the lapels of his trench coat, “time for an afternoon victory nap?” Cas hummed in agreement, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth as the latter shrugged Cas’s coat off of his shoulders. 

“That sounds like a lovely plan,” he agreed, leading Dean into the bedroom, taking his hands off of his waist only for the purpose of allowing his coat to fall to the floor.

“I can’t believe I agreed to be seen with a guy wearing a long ass khaki trench coat with khaki shorts,” Dean teased as he allowed himself to be led into the bedroom, Cas kicking the door behind him and pulling Dean against himself by the hips. “I also can’t believe I’m dating a guy who wears khaki shorts, but at least you’re cute.” Cas smirked as Dean kissed along his jaw. 

“Oh, I’m cute, am I?” he asked, voice laced with mischief that made Dean’s pulse race. 

“You’re adorable,” he cooed, going in for another kiss. However, before Dean could even begin to move, he was being lifted into the air and swung around. He instinctively wrapped his legs around Cas’s wait for security as his boyfriend slammed him against the wall. Cas’s smirk deepened in response to Dean’s awed expression, and the way he was clinging to Cas’s shirt collar.

“You were saying?” 

Dean gaped for another moment before claiming Cas’s mouth with his own. Cas responded in earnest, taking control of the situation. Dean whimpered into his mouth, fingers gripping at the thin fabric of Cas’s white short sleeved button down. God, he was kind of a nerd, but Dean just found it endlessly endearing. He also found Cas really fucking hot in that moment as Cas’s mouth moved to Dean’s neck, kissing across his collarbone and up to the hollow of his throat. Dean moaned, throwing his head back. Cas’s fingers tightened on Dean’s hips, rolling his own. Dean gasped that the sensations that practically burned through him, arching his back and clinging to Cas. They’d made out plenty of times over the month they’d been together, but Dean could sense things going further. Or at least he could feel that he wanted things to go further. “Oh god, Cas,” he sighed, his hips bucking involuntarily as Cas simultaneously sunk his teeth into Dean’s neck and ran his thumbs along the insides of Dean’s thighs. His fingers moved to the buttons on Cas’s shirt, fumbling to undo them. “Fuck,” he uttered, running his hands over Cas’s newly exposed chest. Cas then spun around, tossing Dean onto the bed with just the right balance of caution and force. Dean bounced on the bed, scooting up to the head board and staring in awe was Cas crawled on top of him, slotting himself between Dean’s legs.

He ran his hand through Dean’s hair, caressing his face adoringly before stealing another impassioned kiss. “You are so beautiful,” Cas whispered as he pulled back, eyes dancing across Dean’s features. Dean blushed in response to the compliment. “I have something to tell you,” he blurted, thumb stroking Dean’s cheekbone reverently. “You are aware that you are the first person to make me feel this way, correct?” he checked. Dean nodded, granting Cas his undivided attention as he took a deep breath. “Well, you’re also the first to make me feel like… this,” he continued meekly. “I-I’ve only had intercourse once, really.” Dean’s eyebrows rose a bit, but he rubbed Cas’s shoulder encouraging him to go on. “And it wasn’t the best experience in the world. It’s just that the act of sex never really appealed to me until now,” he confessed, finally looking Dean in the eye. “There’s just something about you.” Dean melted, smiling softly up at his boyfriend. It was times like this, when Cas would say something to organically honest and flattering that the L Word popped forcefully into Dean’s mind.

“We can go slow,” Dean assured him, pulling him down for another kiss. “We can go any pace you want. I’ll walk you through it.” Cas smiled gratefully, burying his face in Dean’s neck. 

“I appreciate you being so understanding,” Cas replied before kissing and biting at Dean’s skin. He slipped his hands under Dean’s t-shirt, giving him space to remove it. He ran his hands over Dean’s stomach, kissing his way down Dean’s torso. “You are truly magnificent,” he praised, shrugging off his own shirt. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Dean retorted, a little embarrassed by Cas’s unabashed affection. He ran his hands across Cas’s back, inhaling a sharp, soft gasp as he felt the slightly raised scar tissue under his fingertips. He’d seen hi boyfriend’s scars a handful of times before, and he’d longed to touch them, to trace them, but he never go the chance. Cas stiffened under his touch. “Sorry,” Dean mumbled, his cheeks turning pink as he moved his hands to Cas’s waist. “I forgot. I won’t-”

“It’s fine,” Cas hushed him, capturing Dean’s lips with his own and entwining their fingers together. “I don’t mind.” He reclaimed Dean’s mouth, his hands running through Dean’s hair and across the skin of his collarbone and chest. Dean’s fingers hesitantly made their way back to Cas’s back. The latter inhaled sharply, but only proceeded to kiss Dean more deeply. With this tacit encouragement, Dean began gingerly tracing the jagged, branched pattern of the scars as he made his way up Cas’s back, eventually gripping onto Cas’s shoulders as Cas took Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth. Dean moaned, and Cas moved to mark his neck. Hands grasped Dean’s hips, yanking them down forcefully so that Dean was completely on his back, staring up at the ceiling as Cas began peppering kisses across Dean’s chest again. He hooked his thumbs through Dean’s belt loops, dragging the tip of his nose along Dean’s hipbone. Dean’s hips, in turn, involuntarily bucked toward Cas’s touch. 

Dean sat up abruptly then, situating himself so that he was sitting against the headboard. Cas looked up at him with a confused frown. “Was that… not correct?” he asked unsurely.

“No, it’s not that at all, Cas. That was very correct,” he assured him, chuckling breathlessly. “I just thought that I’d take the reins for a little bit,” he explained, sliding his legs out from under Cas and climbing into his lap. He carded his fingers through his dark hair, nibbling at the shell of his ear. “If this is the first time you’re really wanting this, I wanna make damn sure it’s good for you.” Cas shivered at that, throwing his head back as Dean ground his hips down. Dean planted kisses along the exposed column of Cas’s neck, pressing his shoulders down so that he lay on his back, Dean straddling his hips. Dean bit lightly at the spot just beneath his ear, his fingers grazing over the planes of Cas’s stomach, his thumbs diving into the dip of Cas’s prominent hipbones. Cas gasped, writhing slightly under Dean’s touch. “D’you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” Dean asked as he worked open Cas’s belt.

“You may have mentioned it a few times,” Cas responded breathily, sitting up on his forearms to watch Dean, lifting his hips as he dragged his shorts down his legs. Dean smiled wickedly at him. 

“How about your thighs?” he asked, shifting so that he was sitting back on his feet between Cas’s open legs and running his hands across Castiel’s muscular thighs. Dean leaned down and planted a trail of kisses up Cas’s inner thigh, making him whimper involuntarily. “’Cause let me tell you, you’ve got some pretty great thighs,” he praised, slipping his thumbs under the hem of his boyfriend’s ash gray boxer briefs as he moved his lips to his other thigh. He ran his right hand up across Cas’s crotch, feeling him harden through the thin fabric. Cas gasped Dean’s name, arching into his touch. Dean smirked against his skin, humming lightly and feeling himself getting harder with the knowledge that he was making Cas this way. “Relax, baby,” he soothed, gripping Cas through his boxers and stroking upward. Cas whimpered, writhing slightly and pulling the sheets up within his fists. Dean licked up Cas’s shaft through the fabric, reveling in the reactions he was eliciting. 

“Dean,” Cas gasped again. “Dean, please.”

“Shh,” Dean hushed him gently, kissing his lower stomach along the band of his underwear. “I got you,” he murmured against his skin, hooking his thumbs under the elastic and slowly, slowly dragging them down and off Cas’s legs, tossing them to the floor somewhere. Dean sat back, taking a moment to appreciate Cas’s beauty. However, when he looked at Cas’s face he saw that he looked more flustered than usual. He surged forward for a deep kiss, cradling his boyfriend’s face in his hands. “You’re amazing,” Dean whispered reverently against his lips. 

“At least let me take your pants off,” Cas replied, his hands going to work on undoing Dean’s belt.

“I can help with that,” Dean grinned, assisting in removing his belt and shucking his pants off, leaving him in only his boxer briefs. The two laughed together as Dean struggled, and once he succeeded he fell into Cas’s arms, giggling into his neck giddily. He tilted his head up again, capturing Cas’s lips in his own and swiping his tongue across Cas’s bottom lips as he ran his hand down the center of Cas’s torso. He then took Cas’s cock in his hand, swallowing his boyfriend’s surprised moan.

“Dean,” he panted, gripping Dean’s shoulder as he thumbed at the tip of Cas’s head, spreading the slick pre-come there. Cas curled one of his legs around one of Dean’s in response, groaning openly and throwing his head back as Dean began sucking a mark into Cas’s neck, pumping his shaft in his fist. 

“God,” Dean muttered, sliding down the bed and kissing down Cas’s side, biting at the skin that stretched across his hipbone. Dean flicked his eyes up, catching Cas’s gaze as he sucked his balls in his mouth. Sure, physically it wasn’t the most enjoyable part of giving a guy head, but the noise Cas emitted made Dean’s cock twitch eagerly in his boxers. He then kissed up Cas’s shaft, making his boyfriend’s toes curl and his legs stretch out. He tongued at his slit before taking the tip in his mouth. Cas all but shouted, thrusting reflexively into Dean’s mouth. Dean moaned, fluttering his eyes closed as he gripped Cas’s shaft with his hand, working as much of Cas as he could at once. 

“Oh god, Dean,” Cas moaned, his fingers finding purchase in Dean’s hair. “Oh my god, oh god,” he babbled. Dean bobbed his head up and down Cas’s shaft, his cheeks hollowed, but he could feel that Cas was holding back. He gripped Cas’s hips with both hands, pulling them up into his mouth. Still, Cas didn’t seem to get the message. 

Dean removed his lips from Cas’s cock, looking him in the eyes as he said, “Fuck my mouth.” When all he got was a confused look, he repeated, “Please, Cas. Please fuck my mouth.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cas panted uncertainly.

“You won’t,” Dean assured him. “Please, Cas,” he begged desperately. Cas was hesitant to comply, but as Dean fit his mouth loosely around the head of Cas’s hard-on, he began slowly bucking into Dean’s mouth. “More,” Dean pulled off to demand. “Come on man, I’m begging here. Harder, please.” A warmth tugged in Dean’s stomach when a small, slightly awed smirk grew across Cas’s face.

“You really want this, don’t you?” he asked in wonder. Dean nodded eagerly, letting his mouth hang open, his eyes glittering with mischief. Cas gripped Dean’s hair again, pushing his cock into Dean’s mouth. The latter moaned, satisfied as Cas began thrusting deep into Dean’s throat. The muscles in his throat fluttered and contracted, but Dean loved it. He released a loud moan, getting on his hands and knees to give Cas a better angle. Cas quickened his pace, appeasing Dean and his commands as he began fucking his mouth in earnest. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes, but he entangled his fingers with Cas’s free hand to assure him they weren’t a bad thing. “You’re sure you’re okay?” Cas checked as his boyfriend gagged, slowing down. Dean leaned further forward, contracting the muscles in his throat for emphasis. Cas cried out, his hips stuttering forward. Dean could tell he was close by the way his thrust became sloppier, the hang in his hair tightening instinctively. The lights flickered as thunder rumbled outside, and Dean could feel an electric pulse coursing through him, like being on elevated ground as a storm approached. He gripped Cas’s hips harder, forcing himself further down the shaft until his nose grazed Cas’s lower stomach. He pulled off quickly afterward though, coughing and wiping his mouth as his eyes watered – he was a little rusty.

He kept going regardless, smiling, ravaged, up into Cas’s concerned eyes as he pumped his slick shaft with two hands, taking his balls in his mouth once again. Cas moaned, throwing his head back as Dean licked up to the bundle of nerves at the base of Cas’s head. He tongued there, his own cock leaking as Cas shouted, “Oh, Dean, oh god, oh god, oh god.” 

“Let go, baby,” Dean told him, enveloping Cas’s tip once more before pulling off and opening his mouth, stroking him in earnest. He looked up to see his boyfriend’s face screwed up in pleasure, illuminated by the now rapidly flickering light. “I got you.”

Cas cried out, his climax wracking through him as he came onto Dean’s face, most of it landing on Dean’s tongue. At the same time, the light shattered, the glass bulb showering glass shards to the floor. Thankfully, none of them hit either Dean or Cas. “Shit,” Dean muttered as Cas panted, his chest heaving slightly. His body went near limp, his hand lazily carding through Dean’s hair. “That was crazy weird timing,” Dean laughed.

“That was…” Cas breathed in disbelief. “Dean, come here please.” Dean happily complied, crawling across Cas’s body so that he was leaning over him, smiling into his eyes.

“Was that good?” Dean asked, both excitedly and, strangely, a bit shyly. Cas smiled up at him, clearly on natural high as he wiped a drop of his come from the corner of Dean’s mouth.

“It was amazing,” he grinned softly, pulling Dean in for a kiss. Dean went easily, the kisses slow and a little messy, but great nonetheless.

“Do you think I should clean up the glass?” Dean asked, kissing down Cas’s now fairly sweaty neck. He gasped as he felt a hand stroking him through his boxers. Cas hummed, kissing him languidly once more.

“I think that can wait.” He then shoved Dean’s briefs down just enough so that he could take Dean in his hand. Dean moaned, burying his face in Cas’s neck but keeping his ass in the air to give him better access. It was clear that he didn’t have much experience, but it felt amazing regardless. Dean felt more sensitive than ever, and he nearly whimpered as Cas swiped his thumb over his slit, biting into his neck. He panted heavily, one hand gripping the sheets, the other grasping at Cas’s shoulder. 

“Fuck, Cas,” he muttered, rolling his hips into his boyfriend’s fist. “Yeah, baby, oh god.” 

“That’s good?” Cas asked uncertainly.

“Fucking amazing,” Dean confirmed. “Shit, Cas. Oh god, fuck,” he practically squeaked, gasping and letting out a small “oh” as Cas tightened his grip. Cas took Dean’s chin in his free hand, claiming his lips in his own as he quickened the pace of his fist. Dean whined into his mouth, emitting a string of obscenities against Cas’s lips as he felt the sensation building within him. “Oh, oh fuck, yeah, Cas,” he moaned, crying out as he came in Cas’s fist. 

He collapsed onto Cas’s chest then, nuzzling his face into the warmth of his neck as his finger traced nonsensical patterns and shaped on his chest. “How are you feeling?” Cas asked, running his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Fucking fantastic,” Dean responded, smiling against Cas’s collarbone in sleepy elation. “How ‘bout you?” he asked.

“I feel amazing,” he answered after a moment, kissing the top of Dean’s head. Dean smiled like the sentimental dope he was, holding Cas closer to him.

“We should probably clean up that glass,” he said after a few minutes of drifting in and out of sleep against Cas.

And so they did, but only after taking a very necessary shower. Dean made mac and cheese afterward, which they ate on the couch tangled up in blankets while watching Top Gear, the rain pounding persistently outside.

Many days were like that. They ran errands together, ate together, etc. Any time that could be spent together was. Eventually each of them had a fair amount clothes at the other’s home, and they both had their own toothbrushes at both places. It was comfortable, and it never stopped being a thrill somehow. Dean was thinking he could get used to the whole relationship thing, and it only got easier as spring turned to summer and summer wound down into late August. 

But then things started to get a little… well, weird.


	7. Chapter 7

Things got strange gradually. It wasn’t one solitary cosmic boom, not even close. It was a couple of different factors. Mostly it was a mix of the weather and Cas’s behavior. At first Dean had passed it off as Cas being an overly empathetic person and some quirky habits, but he noticed that Cas got very uneasy when the weather reports were on. He started seeming more angry than sad as news casts relayed reports of weather-related disasters and deaths across the globe. Which, yeah, Dean understood getting angry about the cruelties of the world, but he could sense there was something else bothering Cas. He’d tried to ask him about it a couple times while they were lying in bed before going to sleep, but Cas always assured him he was fine, it was just upsetting to see such tragedy.

But it wasn’t just that he was upset. Cas often moved his hands around absentmindedly, but there were times Dean thought he was seeing things. There was one instance when they were sitting on Dean’s couch watching some crime investigation show; Cas’s eyes were trained intently on the screen, his brows drawn together. However, his index finger was tracing small circles on his thigh. Which was fairly normal, just another one of Cas’s little mannerisms. Except that Dean swore he saw a small whirlpool in the glass of water on the end table next to Cas. You know, the kind that happen when you swirl a straw around in a glass. The kind that doesn’t occur on its own. But then Cas made a comment and Dean’s attention was diverted from the water, which was still when he looked back. Not a single ripple ran through it. Cas had stopped moving his finger.

Dean had forgotten about that until they were at Mary’s house that Sunday having dinner. Cas was washing the dishes after the meal when Dean returned from the bathroom. He went to go help him, reaching into the sink. “The water’s hot!” Cas warned, clearly alarmed as Dean stuck his hands under the steaming water. But the water was cold on his hands, and the steam vanished within the next second.

“Doesn’t feel hot,” Dean commented.

“Well I turned it to cold when I saw you were about to burn yourself,” Cas replied. Dean smiled at him, but he was a bit uneasy – he was almost positive he hadn’t seen Cas move for the handle of the faucet, but it was, indeed, turned to cold. Dean’ mind was brought back to the glass of water the few days before, but he brushed off the thought.

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” he teased, caressing Cas’s face with his wet hands and subsequently inciting a bought of giggling, kissing, and flicking water at each other.

Another thing Dean noted was how Cas almost always seemed to be awake when Dean woke, whether it be one in the afternoon or two in the morning. One night Dean woke around 3:10 AM to an empty bed. He heard the water running in Cas’s bathroom, and a strip of light filtered through the slightly ajar door onto the carpet of the bedroom. He shifted slightly on the bed, peering into the bathroom. Castiel was standing at the sink, staring absently away from the bedroom. One hand was leaning against the counter; the other was held a few inches above the counter and curled slightly. Dean then noticed that the water was falling from the faucet in a spiral, not the normal straight, direct spout that Dean knew that sink produced. He blinked the bleariness out of his eyes for a moment, and when his vision cleared Cas was washing his hands, not one sign of abnormal activity. Dean’s eyes flew shut as Cas turned off the water, feeling like he’d been caught watching something he shouldn’t have witnessed for whatever reason as he listened to Cas dry off his hands and pad back into the bedroom. Dean felt the sheets shift as Cas got back into bed, cuddling up to him. Dean fluttered his eyes open as Cas wrapped his arm around him, pulling him into his chest as he entwined their legs together. Dean looked up to find Cas smiling down at him with that look of unadulterated fondness that never failed to take Dean’s breath away.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’re good,” Dean assured him, going in for a kiss. He missed and ended up pecking his chin, which made both of them grin as Dean let his eyes slip shut. Cas’s chest rumbled lightly with soft laughter as Dean rested his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. Dean scolded himself for thinking anything weird was going on – Cas was just Cas, and Dean was just tired. Still, he held Cas tighter, an uneasy feeling in the back of his mind as he drifted back to unconsciousness.

There weren’t very many anomalies in their routine after that (and Dean was surprisingly pleased that they had developed a sort of routine together), but Dean found himself looking for things, an signs of strange activity on Cas’s part. He hated the suspicion he felt creeping up on him – Cas wasn’t suspicious. Cas was supportive, and caring, and his boyfriend. He was amazing.

But there was something about him. Something amazing and different, but also something… something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And while that was plenty intriguing and exciting, it was also a bit terrifying. Dean felt disgusted with himself when he felt the energy course through him that told him Cas was near, for his heart leapt a different beat than normal, and he questioned why he could feel Cas’s presence like a current running through him. He hated to question it. Maybe because he knew he should trust Cas and not be so paranoid. Maybe because he didn’t have answers.

Cas was as adoring and attentive as ever. He was a bit distant at times, staring off at times and getting visibly upset by the constant news reports of the horrifying disasters across the world, but that was normal for him – he was an empathetic and maybe more than slightly eccentric person. And he continued to hold Dean tighter, and kiss him for no reason, and Dean surreptitiously preened under the affection. The only indication Dean had of something being off was the lights flickering a few times while he was blowing Cas, but the storms had made flickering lights the norm by then.

Everything was going smoothly until Cas was watching the news one Monday. Dean didn’t know why he did it if it made him so upset; Cas said he liked to stay informed to try to think of ways to help. That didn’t keep Dean’s chest from aching for his boyfriend every night he sat on the couch with his fists clenched in his lap. Dean was cooking dinner in Cas’s kitchen this time, and he could see him sitting on the couch across the hall as he waited for the water to boil. His blue eyes were shining with angry tears.

“Record breaking mudslides devastate areas across Washington, Oregon, and Northern California this week, destroying homes and blocking off highways, making driving nearly impossible. So far the official death count for these disasters is 24 people, including men, women, children, and elders alike. Families of the deceased…”

Something that sounded like a lightbulb was rattling softly. The fan was also spinning faster than Dean thought it could.

“Babe,” Dean called from the kitchen. Cas whipped his head up to face Dean. “C’mere,” he said, opening his arms out. Cas slowly got up from the couch, making his way over to Dean and falling into his arms. He let out a sob.

“Why is this happening?” he asked, gripping to Dean’s t-shirt as he soothed him.

“God only knows,” Dean replied helplessly, rubbing his boyfriend’s back and kissing the side of his head. Cas huffed out a bitter laugh full of rancorous sarcasm.

“I’ll bet he does,” he replied, sounding defeated as he pulled out of Dean’s embrace to wipe his eyes.

“Three of the deceased include two children, who were at home sleeping, and their teenage babysitter who was watching them while their parents were out for the night.”

“It’s not fair,” Cas growled indignantly, slamming his fist on the wall. Dean heard something roar behind him and turned to see the fire of the stove shooting up and licking at the wooden cabinets. “Crap,” Cas muttered, sticking out his palm and thrusting his arm downward. The flames immediately subsided to normal height, although the bottom of the cabinets were a bit charred.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes saucers as they stared at the blackened cabinets, then they boiling pot of water. It felt like an eternity before he could look at Cas, who was staring at the pot in horror himself. His eyes slowly, hesitantly found their way to Dean. They were so wide, so nervous. And they were filled with guilt.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean exploded after a drawn out moment of stunned silence from both of them. “What the fuck did you- what was that? How the fuck did you do that?” he demanded. He didn’t realize he’d been backing away until he hit the frame of the archway into the living room. Cas’s eyes were wild and full of fear.

“Dean-” he began, sounding a bit like he was begging.

“No,” he cut him off. “Don’t come- just, stay there.” Cas looked like he’d just been slapped. It made Dean’s racing heart sink. “Did I really just see that?” he demanded. “Did that just happen?”

“Dean, please listen to me-”

“Listen to you?” Dean exclaimed incredulously. “What the hell could you possibly have to say about this? What the fuck, Cas?”

“I’m trying to explain,” he huffed, clearly frustrated with Dean’s constant interrupting. But he remained patient and reasonable. And scared – god, he looked so scared. Part of Dean wanted to comfort him, but for the most part he was one step away from bolting out the door.

No. No, that had not just happened. That was impossible. Cas obviously had some sort of universal remote in his pocket that controlled stoves, obviously. Dean didn’t want to run. This was Cas; there was no reason to be afraid. He took a steadying breath.

“You wanna tell me what just happened?” he asked, doing his best to remain calm. Cas sighed, sitting on the floor and resting his back against the cabinets. He brought his knees up to his chest, running a hand through his hair. Dean followed suit after a moment, sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor. The few feet between himself and Cas felt like miles as Cas collected himself.

“I got angry,” he explained quietly. He seemed so much smaller than Dean had ever seen him before.

“So… the stove really did just burst into flames?” Dean asked. Cas nodded, staring at a fixed point on the tile floor. “And… you made it do that?” Dean’s mind felt like it was underwater, stuck and barely moving. Cas glanced up at the burnt cabinets.

“I’m going to need to fix those,” he muttered distractedly to himself.

“Cas,” Dean cut in, more roughly than he’d intended. He rubbed his eyes, his stomach churning uncertainly. “Did you… did you do that?” He opened his eyes to see that Cas was once again on the verge of tears. Dean wanted to go over and pull him into his arms, but he was frozen in place. Cas couldn’t look at Dean as he nodded. Dean gulped.

“How?” he whispered, not sure whether he wanted the answer or not. He could barely process the information he had, and that wasn’t even much.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Cas responded, his voice choked. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you. It’s just… it’s hard. To explain, to even begin to put it into words.”

“What, are you a magician or something?” Dean asked. Cas shot him a sad attempt at a smile.

“No, I’m not a magician,” he replied. His smile disappeared, and Dean knew he was about to say something important. “But I’m not… I’m not normal, really. I’m…”

“Well I think I’d agree that controlling the elements makes you a little above normal,” Dean concurred.

“Who says I’m above anything?”

Dean’s heart dropped at the broken sincerity in Cas’s question. He was beginning to realize just how much he didn’t know about his boyfriend.

“You can tell me, you know,” he offered softly. The pain in Cas’s eyes was searing.

“But how am I supposed to know you won’t leave me?” he asked meekly. He sounded so lost.

“Well, I stayed after your little firebending display,” he pointed out with a sad smile. Cas shook his head.

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” he protested. “You deserve to know, I want you to know, but you won’t believe me. You’ll leave, think I’m insane, and I’ll never see you again…” he rambled, his breaths becoming ragged, his face red as tears welled in his eyes.

“Trust me, the only person I think is crazy right now is me,” Dean said. It broke his heart to see someone he cared for so much looking so broken. Cas took a deep breath.

“I’m not… human,” he stated. And yeah, that was a pretty fucking crazy thing to say. And Dean would be lying horribly if he said he wasn’t a little terrified. But Cas was a good person – or a good something, rather – and Dean knew that. So he would stay. Also, he had just seen him controlling fire, which was a fairly good indication that Cas was being truthful.

“So you’re what, a firebender?” he asked, hoping to lighten the mood a little bit. Cas gave him a look.

“I’m much more than a firebender,” he said. “Besides, I’m more akin to water than fire anyway.”

“All right, so you’re the avatar,” Dean concluded. “I’m dating the avatar.”

“Dean, you’re not dating the avatar,” Cas assured him, a miniscule smile edging its way onto his face.

“That’s a disappointment,” Dean joked. He really didn’t know how else to cope with the situation.

“Oh, I’m much cooler than the avatar,” he replied proudly. He was clearly still on edge, and so was Dean, but he felt more comfortable than a few moments before. Cas still wasn’t completely opening up, but he knew how hard it could be to reveal something so deeply personal. Coming out as bisexual was hard enough – he couldn’t fathom how difficult it must have been to come out as not human. (And yes, Dean realized how crazy it sounded, and his head was still whirling, but there really was no other explanation for what Cas had done.)

“Getting a little cocky now,” Dean teased, though his heart rate had not yet returned to normal. Cas simply smirked, but his face clouded over soon enough with jumbled words trapped in his throat. “Don’t feel like you have to tell me,” Dean said quietly. Of course he wanted to know, he wanted to know what Cas was, what he was dating (especially if it was cooler than the avatar), but he reminded himself to be patient and respectful of Cas’s boundaries.

“I think I’d rather show you,” Cas said timidly after a moment. The vagueness of that statement scared Dean, especially after the whole shooting fire into the air thing. It must’ve shown on his face, because Cas rushed to add, “Once you’re ready and you want to, that is.” Dean took a steadying breath.

“Well, I guess it depends what you mean by ‘show me’,” he replied. “You’re not gonna burn the house down or turn into a wolf, right?” Cas pulled a face.

“I’m not a werewolf,” he said distastefully. “Nor a vampire, or anything like that.”

“So fairy is out of the question?” Dean asked. Cas rolled his eyes, but he was grinning.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he answered.

“Damn,” Dean replied simply, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Okay, but really… what do you mean when you say you’ll show me?” He was a bit afraid to ask, but Cas was clearly nervous, and he wanted to fix that.

“How do you feel about teleportation?” he asked hesitantly, almost embarrassed, as if he were asking to try something weird in bed. Dean actually laughed a little, a shocked laugh. Teleportation was definitely not what he’d had in mind.

“You’re not serious, are you?” he blurted out. “Wait, shit, sorry, you’re totally serious. I’m sorry, baby, that was insensitive.” A small smile curled across Cas’s face. Butterflies fluttered in Dean’s stomach as he realized what he’d called Cas – for whatever reason, Cas got this dopey smile on his face when pet names slipped out of Dean’s mouth. It made Dean happy to see, and the interaction made him entirely more at ease.

“That’s all right,” he replied. “We can start with something smaller.” Just as Dean began nodding in agreement, the sink turned on. Dean jumped a bit. Cas’s giggling was quiet, but Dean heard it, and he glared harmlessly at him.

“Very cute,” he remarked sarcastically. “All right sink boy, you do anything more than manipulate kitchen appliances?” The second the challenge was issued, Cas was straddling Dean’s lap. The latter inhaled sharply, taken aback. “So much for holding off on the teleportation, I guess.” His voice was an octave higher than normal. Cas smirked

“You got bored with the sink thing,” he shrugged. His face fell into worry then. “Wait, I didn’t scare you, did I?” he asked.

“Well, a little,” Dean admitted. “But it was also weirdly hot.” Cas blushed, smiling coyly down at their laps. Dean caressed Cas’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. It was well needed, and they both fell into it tenderly but desperately. It sealed the gap that had been forming between them (for the most part).

“I can’t wait to show you the world,” Cas sighed wistfully into Dean’s lips. Dean’s heart leapt at that in anticipation and nerves. He pulled back then.

“The world, huh?” he said. “Well, all right, Aladdin, sounds pretty impressive. I’m interested, now.” Cas beamed.

“What do you want to see first?” he asked excitedly before bombarding Dean’s face with kisses. Dean laughed lightly.

“How possible is a space expedition?” he wondered aloud, mostly joking. Cas pulled back, a pensive look on his face.

“I wouldn’t want to risk experimenting with that,” he said. “It’s far too dangerous for you.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“So space isn’t off limits to you?” he clarified. Cas smirked triumphantly again.

“There is very little that is off limits to me.” And yeah, that was pretty hot, but it also took Dean’s breath away. Cas was clearly far more powerful than he’d thought.

“Then why the hell are you on Earth?” Dean couldn’t help but blurt out. Cas’s face softened then. He seemed like he was going to say something, but instead he simply kissed Dean.

“I have my reasons,” he murmured, “but for now I’d rather save that conversation for later.” Dean nodded; clearly it was personal, and he wasn’t going to push it.

“Show me the ocean,” he requested after a moment. Cas sat back on his feet, his arms still around Dean’s neck as he grinned at him.

“Are you sure you’re ready to teleport?” Cas asked, his voice saturated with genuine concern. “I know how you are about planes, and I’ve never teleported a human before.” At Dean’s alarmed expression he went onto explain, “I know it’s safe and how it works, but you may feel a bit sick.” Dean took a deep breath, deciding to trust his boyfriend on this one. Besides, he was kind of flattered by being the first human Cas teleported – a sense of pride and possessiveness creeped over him. He nodded.

“Let’s do it.” Cas smiled, standing up. He helped Dean as well, taking both of his hands in his own.

“Just like a shot, okay?” Cas said. Dean didn’t know what he was talking about, but he nodded anyway. “One-” Cas began, then they were on a beach, sand giving slightly under their feet. Dean sucked in a breath, stumbling into Cas’s ready arms.

They were on a beach. It was dark, and they were on a beach. Dean hadn’t been to a beach in years; he’d missed the smell of salt carried through the breeze. But this wasn’t any beach he’d been to before, and it had been 6:30 in Lawrence. “Wh-where are we?” he asked, his voice trembling. It was then that he realized his entire body was shaking.

“Biarritz, France,” Cas replied, holding Dean tight to himself, rubbing his back soothingly and kissing his temple. “It’s about 1:30 in the morning here.”

“France,” Dean answered weakly, his head spinning. “France. We’re in France.”

“How are you feeling?” Cas demanded worriedly.

“Better than a plane,” he joked in response, though his voice betrayed him. “And I didn’t even need a passport.” Cas smiled at the humor.

“Here, sit down,” Cas instructed, helping Dean to the cool sand and taking a seat beside him. He wrapped his arms around Dean, who burrowed himself in his boyfriend’s embrace. They stared out at the water, the placid crash of the waves helping to even Dean’s breathing. Cas’s warmth and gently pulsating energy helped, too.

“France,” Dean repeated, in amazement this time.

“How do you like it so far?” Cas asked, his contentment clear in his voice.

“Well, this particular beach is beautiful in the moonlight,” he commented. “Wonder how it would look in the sunlight.” Cas nuzzled his face into Dean’s neck.

“We can stay a week if you’d like,” he offered. “We can get a hotel room, stay awhile.” Dean huffed a small laugh.

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice. ‘Hey Bobby, hey Ellen, I can’t come into work this week, Cas flew me to France.’” he joked.

“Maybe next week,” Cas responded, kissing Dean’s neck. He hummed.

“Maybe,” he agreed. He closed his eyes then, allowing himself to take it all in, but at the same time refusing to let himself think too hard about what was happening.

“Can I show you something?” Cas whispered in his ear. Dean peered at him through one open eye.

“You mean you have more to show me than a beach in France?” he asked incredulously.

“Did you think I brought you to a time zone where it’s 1:30 in the morning just for the privacy?” he smirked, standing up.

“Can’t blame me for being optimistic,” Dean joked back, earning himself a roll of the eyes from Cas.

“Here, come to the water.” Dean shook his head, but took Cas’s hand anyway and walked with him to the water’s edge. Dean was tempted to take off his boots as the dark water lapped gently toward them. “Close your eyes,” Cas instructed. Dean did as he was told, having already placed his full trust in Cas at this point. “Okay, now open them.” Dean did that too, and couldn’t help but gasp; the water that had been the darkest shade of blue just moments before was now alight with vibrant dots of bright blue light. “It’s called bioluminescence,” Cas explained, answering one of the any questions that were stuck in Dean’s throat. “It’s the product of a chemical reaction between oxygen and luciferin, which is a light-emitting pigment that algae called dinoflagellates have.”

“And it just… happens?” Dean queried.

“Well, yes. It didn’t exactly ‘just happen’ right now, though. It occurs naturally in many places throughout the world, but this was the most favorable time zone. It occurs in Belgium as well, so I suppose I could’ve taken you there,” he rambled, “but I like this beach.” There was an unadulterated fondness in his voice that made Dean sure he was safe with Cas, that nothing was different – he just knew more about him now. And yeah, it was a lot, but Cas was still Cas.

“So, does that mean you did that?” he asked, referring to the algae in the water.

“I may have tampered with the chemical reactions a bit,” he admitted. Dean smiled, a rush of emotion overwhelming him; Cas was something so powerful that he could light up an entire shoreline with one thought, he could travel across the world within a matter of milliseconds – he had all that power, had seen and created so much beauty, and he had decided to engage in a relationship with Dean and share that with him. It was a lot to take in.

 

 

“What are you thinking?” Cas asked, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist from behind and leaning his head on his shoulder. Dean leaned back into him.

“It’s a lot,” he confessed, his voice thick.

“Was it too much at once?” Cas asked, worry and guilt clear in his voice. Dean laughed lightly.

“I don’t think the pace really matters,” he said. “I mean, I’m still trying to take it all in… and I’m guessing there’s even more to it that I don’t know yet… but this is really nice.” He felt Cas smile against his neck. “I’m pretty lucky to have you, aren’t I?” he smiled.

“So I take it you’re not angry?” Cas replied. Dean shook his head, smiling adoringly.

“How could I be mad at someone who took me halfway across the world just to show me some awesome, glowing algae?” he teased fondly. Then, swallowing and bracing himself, he continued on to say, “I mean, seriously, Cas. You’re this super badass entity of like, power, or whatever. You can control the elements and teleport and shit… and apparently you can survive in space no problem.” Cas was silent, but his arms were tight around Dean as he listened to what he had to say. “I guess I just don’t understand why you’d wanna be with me when you could have all that. I mean, I’m just a guy, and not even a great one or anything.” Cas loosened his hold, but only so that he could turn so that he and Dean were face to face. He took Dean’s face gently in his hands, staring him in the eye.

“You, Dean Winchester, are all I want,” he praised, leaning in and kissing him chastely. “If I had the power to reign over infinite universes and species, I would still rather have you than any of that.” Dean’s throat began to feel closed up; no one had ever said anything like that to him before. Sure, there were I love you more than anythings and the works, but none were so weighted or so reverent as what Cas had just told him.

“I guess what I’m trying to say… is that I’m honored you trust me with this. It means a lot to me.” It wasn’t easy to get the words out, and he could barely look at Cas while saying them, but the way Cas smiled at him made it all worth it. “And also I uh… I’m lucky to have you.” Cas’s smile softened, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth.

They stayed on the beach for a little while after that, but after about an hour or so Cas suddenly worried that they’d left the stove on. Thankfully, the house was still intact when they got back, and the stove had been turned off. The cabinets were still a bit charred, and the smell of fire lingered in the air, but neither of the two mentioned it.

“So,” Dean started, “you gonna make me guess what you are?” Cas smirked a bit.

“Yes, keep going,” he encouraged. “Your guesses were rather amusing.” Dean leaned against the counter, a pensive look on his face.

“You’re a wizard, Harry,” he finally said in a terrible impersonation of Hagrid. Cas squinted at him, tilting his head a bit.

“I’m not a wizard, and my name is not Harry.” Dean shook his head; apparently Cas had somehow managed to evade all things Harry Potter in his lifetime.

“All right, well if you’re not a wizard then I got nothing,” he surrendered. Cas’s eyes fell to the floor. He took Dean’s hand in his, and all of a sudden there was a couch beneath him. Cas had just teleported them all of ten feet. Okay, a little unnecessary, Dean thought to himself, his stomach rolling.

“Sorry,” Cas mumbled, “that probably wasn’t entirely necessary.” Dean just shook his head. He was about to crack a joke, but he saw how nervous Cas was; he was fiddling anxiously with Dean’s fingers, tracing the lines of his palm.

“It’s fine,” he assured him.

“You know, human theology is a very interesting thing,” Cas mused aloud, and Dean settled himself in for one of Cas’s random but always interesting ramblings. “Everyone always wants something to look to for guidance, and you were especially creative with your theories before you discovered science. It will never cease to fascinate me how many different religions you’ve formed. All over the world, too – no matter where you are, the desire for a higher purpose, for answers to impossible questions… it’s universal amongst humans. It’s fascinating.” Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about Cas referring to the human race as a plural “you” – it reminded him that Cas wasn’t human, that he was set apart from Dean, and with how new that information was to him he was having trouble processing it.

After a moment of silence from Cas, Dean began to say, “You know, if you’re not ready, or if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have-”

“I want to,” Cas rushed to cut him off. “It’s just a bit difficult. You’re gonna laugh at me.” Dean went to comfort him, but Cas was smiling. “You’re definitely not gonna believe me, and I’m gonna sound like such an asshole.” Dean peered suspiciously at him.

“Try me,” he challenged.

“You need to know that I’m being one hundred percent serious.”

“I trust you,” Dean nodded. Cas took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

“I’m a god.”


	8. Chapter 8

It took Dean a minute to respond, and when he did all he could do was repeat what Cas had said. “God.” A smile played at his lips, a mix of disbelief, slight panic, and pure shock. “You’re joking.”

“I’m really not,” Cas swore, smiling in what seemed to be embarrassment. “I know I sound like such an asshole saying that out loud, but it’s true.” Dean burst out laughing – he couldn’t help it. It was all insane.

“God. I’m dating God.”

“A god,” Cas corrected quickly. “There are many of us. There are exponentially more gods in total than there are humans on Earth.” Dean sat in silence for about a minute, letting it sink in, holding onto Cas’s hand like an anchor.

“So are there lots of gods on Earth?” he finally asked. Apparently it was a bad question to lead with, because Cas immediately stiffened once it left Dean’s lips, his hand slipping from Dean’s and resting his lap. 

“Not really,” he answered, clearly uncomfortable. Dean appreciated the effort he was making to answer the question, regardless. “I’m a bit of a rare case. We’re really supposed to be spectators rather than… participants.”

“So what made you come down here?” He couldn’t help but ask. He knew he was prying, but he couldn’t fathom why such a divine creature would confine himself to such a shitty place. Cas looked at Dean meaningfully, and Dean felt something flood through him as Cas reclaimed his hand in his own.

“I fell in love with humanity,” he replied, smiling wistfully, as if he was falling in love all over again in that one moment. Dean could sense there was something else under those words, and it made him feel safe, at home. It was a lot to take in. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Cas’s, and was subsequently flooded and almost overwhelmed with that familiar internal blanket of warmth, safety, and lightly pulsating energy. He’d grown used to the subtle, comforting buzz he felt when around Cas, but there were times that it was so potent it still took his breath away.

“Is that you?” Dean asked hesitantly, breaking the kiss. Cas eyed him in confusion.

“Is what me?” he countered.

“You know,” Dean replied, ducking his head; he’d been hoping he wouldn’t have had to try to describe the sensation aloud. There was no way he could do it justice. “There’s this… energy that I feel whenever you kiss me, or hell, when you touch me. It just flows through me.” He glanced up to find Cas practically beaming.

“You can feel that?” he asked. “When I touch you?” Dean nodded.

“I can feel it when you’re just around, too, but I’ve sort of gotten used to it.” He lowered his head again, murmuring the words, “I kind of miss it when you’re gone.” 

“Dean,” Cas breathed in astonishment, cupping Dean’s face reverently. Dean looked at his boyfriend to find him staring at with so much wonderment and amazement. “You feel it when I’m around?” he repeated, clearly very pleased with this information. It made Dean smile in return.

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a nod. “I can still remember what it felt like when I first saw you in my living room twenty years ago, how strong it was. I could feel it from a block away.” Dean then noticed that Cas’s eyes were shiny with what seemed like tears. His mouth hung open slightly. “You okay?” Dean asked with a grin. Cas just shook his head in disbelief, a tear rolling down his cheek. He wiped it away, still beaming.

“I can’t believe…” he whispered, grazing his thumb across Dean’s cheek, his eyes flickering over his face.

“So, what is it?” Dean asked, even more confused now through the new tempest of emotions swirling in his chest and clawing up his throat. He’d also never seen Cas in the state he was in, which didn’t help to elucidate the situation. “What’s that energy?”

“It’s my grace,” Cas explained, taking a steadying breath before claiming Dean’s lips with his own. “I guess you could sort of say it’s a manifestation of my powers, or life force. It’s an energy unique to me. Sort of like a soul, but far more dispensable, and I have control over it.”

“So, souls are a thing?” Dean queried further. “Like, in humans?” Cas nodded in confirmation. “So it’s your grace that I feel?” Cas nodded again, that look returning to his face. There was an emotion in Dean’s chest that he could only label as love, but he still wasn’t so sure how ready he was to be throwing that word around. “Why can I feel it?”

“Well, it’s stronger when I touch you and kiss you because it’s deliberate,” he explained. “See, you don’t feel it physically, you’re feeling it spiritually.”

“Deliberately, meaning you’re doing it on purpose?” Dean clarified. Cas blushed, nodding abashedly. 

“Sort of,” he admitted. “It’s more my grace seeking out your soul, but I can also manipulate it. I really only did it for sentimental purposes, hoping it would make you feel more at peace, even if just momentarily. I also like the feeling of being connected to you,” he confessed, no longer looking Dean in the eye. “I had no idea you could actually feel it…” he muttered, smiling to himself. Dean reciprocated the gesture without thought. 

“Is it unusual that I can feel it?” he asked, entwining their fingers. Cas looked up and smiled at him adoringly.

“It’s amazing,” he replied, shaking his head slightly. “It means your soul is in tune with my grace, in a manner of speaking. And the fact that you could feel my grace from a distance… that was your soul seeking out my grace,” he explained quietly. Dean’s breath left him as he processed that. 

“So no one else but me can feel that?” Cas shook his head, his smile falling into an apprehensive expression as he assessed Dean’s reaction. Dean nodded slowly, a smile eventually making its way onto his face. Cas immediately beamed in response. “So is that sort of like a soulmates type of deal?” he asked, uncertain about how he felt about the concept. Cas hummed.

“More like kindred spirits,” he answered. “It’s more that we are highly compatible rather than destined to be together. Supernaturally compatible, sure, but our paths were not fated to cross or anything like that.” Dean found comfort in that. He much preferred compatibility to destiny – it made him feel more in control, like he still had choices. Cas was just a really, really good choice. 

“Well, whatever the cause, fate or not, I’m glad I met you,” Dean whispered, leaning his forehead against Cas’s. Something overcame Cas’s face, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. He simply nodded and kissed Dean deeply. However, the kiss was interrupted by the sudden and ferocious rumbling of Dean’s stomach, reminding them that they’d never actually gotten around to eating dinner. 

“You should eat,” Cas stated, pecking the corner of Dean’s mouth. “I can answer more questions after dinner.” Dean nodded in agreement.

“Do you think we can walk to the kitchen this time, though?” he teased fondly. Cas smiled bashfully, taking Dean by the hand and leading him into the kitchen. “Wait,” Dean said, halting abruptly. “Is that why the lightbulb exploded?” he demanded. Cas tilted his head at him. “The first time I blew you,” he clarified. Cas’s cheeks were scarlet in a second. Dean smirked. “Did I make a god come so hard you shattered a lightbulb?” He let out a laugh that was both shocked and triumphant as Cas ducked his head, poorly fending off an amused grin.

“You have a very nice mouth,” he stated simply. “And to be fair, that was the first time I ever… you know,” he reminded him, turning into the kitchen and rummaging through the fridge for food. “So really, I can’t be held responsible for the collateral damage.” Dean shook his head, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and kissing his neck.

“Whatever you say.” 

 

“So do you even sleep?” Dean asked as they were lying in bed that night, face to face.

“When I want to,” Cas answered with a small shrug of one shoulder. “Sometimes I just like to look at you,” he whispered with a soft smile. Dean flushed at that, surprised that it didn’t bother him. He actually found himself kind of liking the idea of Cas watching over him. He kissed the tip of Cas’s nose, at a loss for words.

“I bet you can do some crazy sex things with that mojo of yours,” Dean grinned instead of actually replying, abruptly changing the topic. “You’ve definitely been holding out on me.” Cas smirked.

“That’s true,” he admitted, “but it’s already been a long night, you should get some rest.” Dean smirked at that, but his expression quickly returned to one of awe as he continued to wrap his head around the events of the night. 

“A god,” he muttered, still in disbelief. “So I guess the Romans were right, then.”

“Not exactly,” Cas replied. “Actually, they were pretty far off. Their gods were all mainly focused on Earth and human life, whereas we only have one very small group assigned to this solar system,” he explained. 

“And you were part of that group? That focused on this solar system?”

“Yes. My praesidium, as the Romans would call it, which is quite flattering as it means guard or protection. We watched over this universe, although, to be fair, we were mainly focused on Earth. The other planets are beautiful and breathtaking as well, but Earth is just such an amazing fluke. I mean, we played no role in the evolution of man. You see, there are many other forms of life in other universes, and there are some universes that have no life at all. I’ve heard stories of species similar to humans in other universes – some more advanced, some less, some exactly parallel – but this was the post I was assigned, and I fell in love with it.” Dean liked the wistful smile that graced Cas’s face – it looked beautiful on him, and Dean could tell he was happy thinking about it. But something sour still twisted within him, knowing he was so far below him. Cas was a god, who reigned over the planet Dean had no effect on. It also made him feel a little less special hearing his boyfriend talk about how much he loved mankind as a whole. It made Dean think about his significance, or rather lack thereof. 

“So we humans were a fluke, huh?” Dean said.

“More of a science experiment,” Cas replied after a moment of consideration. Dean scoffed at that.

“Great. I’m a piece of fake dollar store moss at the base of a paper mache volcano.” Cas propped himself up on one elbow then, staring Dean in the eye.

“Dean,” he said very seriously, caressing his face, “you are far more than that. You are amazing.” He smiled then, and Dean was relieved to see his seriousness fade as he joked, “Besides, you’re my favorite piece of moss.” Dean grinned weakly at that as Cas kissed him and settled back beside him. 

“I only say science experiment because none of us knew humankind would evolve as far as it has. It’s fascinating, and amazing, and beautiful. Almost as much so as you.” Dean rolled his eyes then, playfully shoving his hand against Cas’s face as he went in for another kiss. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Novak.” Dean stopped abruptly then, lowering his hand, no longer in a jocular mood. “Your last name’s not Novak, is it?” he asked, almost disappointed. Cas gave him a guilty look.

“No, we don’t have last names. I had to make one up,” he admitted. “But I promise you, my name really truly is Castiel. I hated feeling like I was lying to you. I hated hiding from you, and Dean, I am so sorry.” Dean’s chest ached with the sincerity of the apology. He was a little angry, but he also knew it was unreasonable to have expected Cas to have told him any earlier. 

“It better be,” he muttered, scooting closer and wrapping his arms securely around him. “’Castiel’ would be a pretty terrible cover name if your name was really Jerry.” Cas rolled his eyes, but there was a fond grin on his lips.

“Castiel is an amazing name in any situation,” he argued. 

“It is a pretty nice name,” he conceded, kissing him with a smile on his lips. He snuck his fingers up the back of Cas’s t-shirt, tracing the scar tissue there. 

“While we’re clearing things up,” he began, feeling guilty as Cas stiffened in his embrace, “did you really get these from lightning?”

“No,” Cas answered blatantly, offering no further explanation. But he didn’t remove Dean’s hands like he sometimes did reflexively. (He always returned Dean’s hands to his skin, allowed him to run over the scars that branched like tree roots across the skin of his back, but Dean always felt like he had to be a bit more careful.) 

“You know, there’s this tree out in a clearing in my mom’s neighborhood,” Dean began in an attempt to change the subject. Cas smiled softly, sadly. “It appeared out of nowhere one day when I was sixteen, and I could feel it. It felt like you. Was… was that-”

“Yes,” Cas answered, heaving a tired sigh. “This is the same topic.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean rushed to apologize, “I didn’t mean to bring it back up, or upset you or anything-”

“I know, I’m not reminding you that it’s the same topic, I’m telling you,” he explained, though it was clearly difficult for him. “Yes, the tree harnesses my energy. It’s a physical manifestation of my grace. It appeared when… when I fell from grace.” He was no longer looking at Dean. “That’s what the scars are from as well.” Dean looked at him with large, confused eyes.

“What do you mean you ‘fell from grace’?” he asked. Cas sighed.

“I chose humanity over my own kind,” he admitted, sounding almost disgusted with himself. Mainly he just sounded sad, nostalgic. “I left them because I wanted a life down here, a human life. It was very foolish, looking back on it.” He curled in on himself then, shying away from Dean’s touch. 

“I don’t think it was that stupid,” Dean murmured. Cas smiled sadly at him.

“I’m not human, Dean. It was foolish to think I could live like one.”

“Well, you’ve been pretty convincing for twenty years. I think you’re doing a pretty good job,” Dean retorted with a playful yet genuinely proud grin. “And besides, human or not… I’m still really glad that whatever happened led to you being here with me right now,” he said sincerely. 

“You’re gonna deny saying something that sentimental in the morning,” Cas teased, his playful grin quickly turning into one much more serious, but not any less fond. “And I’m glad I’m here with you, too.” 

“Can you ever go back?” Dean asked nervously. Cas’s face wilted. The sight of it made Dean’s stomach sink.

“Is it possible? Yes. Will I be welcomed back? I seriously doubt it.” Cas heaved another sigh. Dean’s heart ached for him; he knew what it was like to run away, to feel like he could never be welcomed back by his family and loved ones. He couldn’t imagine facing that on such a large scale.

“Well hey, you’ll always have me,” Dean whispered, scaring himself with how much he truly meant it. He stroked Cas’s cheek, pulling him closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he swore, bringing Cas’s lips to his own. 

“You should get some sleep,” Cas whispered, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth. The latter obliged, shamelessly curling up into Cas’s side. While there were still a millions things running through his head, and he was still pretty strung up with energy, he found himself drifting off pretty quickly. Through the haze of being just on the precipice of sleep he thought he heard Cas saying, “I’ll watch over you.”

 

Cas was still in bed with Dean when he woke up. He blinked his eyes open, blearily smiling up at his boyfriend. “Good morning, Dean,” Cas grinned, kissing his forehead.

“Morning, babe,” he slurred back, suddenly remembering the night before as he looked into Cas’s impossibly blue eyes. He was almost convinced it was a dream, but he saw something behind his eyes, felt something within his own veins, and he knew. Or at least, he was pretty sure.

“How did you sleep?” Cas asked.

“Pretty good,” Dean nodded. “Did you sleep at all?” he asked. Cas shook his head.

“Not really. I went ‘dormant’, you might say, for a couple of hours, but that’s not the same as sleeping.”

“Because you’re a god,” Dean recalled aloud. It didn’t make it seem any more real, not even when Cas laughed at him and nodded in confirmation.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “And no, you were not dreaming.”

“We went to France,” Dean stated before giggling into Cas’s collarbone. Cas kissed the top of his head.

“Yes we did.”

“It was nice.”

“I’m glad you thought so. I thought so too.” 

They remained in bed for a few more minutes, but Dean finally decided it was time to get up. “Not everybody chooses their own hours,” he teased in response to his boyfriend’s indignant protests, stepping into the bathroom with a towel slung over his shoulder. 

He spent more time than he should have in the shower, his mind still a bit tied in knots over the whole dating-a-god thing. It wasn’t something he thought he’d get used to very quickly, and he still felt a little crazy, or like he was being pranked, but strangely enough he found himself accepting it.

Twenty minutes later, he found Cas sitting on the couch, a horrified look on his face. Dean’s stomach dropped.

“What is it now?” he asked warily, not positive he wanted to know or not. Cas looked up at Dean then, and the fear and confusion Dean found there made his heart beat that little bit faster. 

“Dean, I don’t want you going to work today,” Cas stated, his voice uneven and almost trembling in a way Dean had never heard in Cas’s speech before. “And I don’t mean just call in sick to play hookie, I mean I want you to call Bobby and Ellen and tell them to keep the shop closed today.” Dean then tuned in to the TV and heard the newscaster detailing the tornado warning that was being put in place.

“Sorry, babe,” he sighed, “if Bobby hasn’t called it off yet, we’re open today, tornado warning or not.” He shrugged and turned into the kitchen, pulling out a frying pan and a carton of eggs. Cas followed him, carrying a storm in his wake.

“Dean,” he repeated sternly, “I don’t want you leaving this house. I don’t want anyone leaving their homes today. It’s going to be worse than they’re predicting, I can feel it.”

“You feel it with your spidey senses?” he joked, but he was starting to worry himself as he turned and saw how serious Cas was.

“I can feel it,” he insisted. “Please, I beg you, make sure all of your family and friends are home, or at least are close to a safe place. I have a cellar that you and I can stay in, and it can hold your loved ones if it comes to that.” Dean just shook his head.

“Cas, I’m sure they’re being responsible, I’m not gonna start a panic over a tornado that’s supposed to hit sometime tonight into tomorrow morning,” he said, peeling a banana. Cas stalked toward him, eyes dark. 

“Dean Winchester, this storm is not something to take lightly. I should have been able to know it was coming much earlier, but I couldn’t tell until just a few minutes ago.” Dean let the banana drop to his side as he met Cas’s eyes.

“What are you saying?” Dean asked, nerves spreading through him once again. 

“I’m saying that this storm isn’t naturally occurring. The majority of disasters that have been happening all across the globe lately haven’t been naturally occurring.”

“So… what’s causing them?” Dean asked hesitantly, afraid of what the answer might be. Cas’s face fell into one of remorse.

“I’m afraid the only conclusion I can draw is that some of my kind are creating this destruction,” he replied, clearly heartbroken at the thought. “There have always been some who questioned the ways of humans, why our father allows them to exist and why we were chosen to protect them… I never imagined they’d really take action. They’ve tried before, but those attempts were much less successful than this time around.” There was something in Cas’s voice, something in his stance and his face, that told Dean he wasn’t sharing everything. But Dean didn’t push – it was clearly a pretty difficult subject for Cas, and he didn’t want to upset him any further. 

“Okay, well that’s scary as shit,” Dean responded, his heart pounding. 

“Yes, it is,” Cas agreed forcefully, “which is why you need to make sure your loved ones don’t get hurt.”

“Cas, I-”

“Dean, if you don’t make sure yourself and your friends and family are safe within the next three hours, I will come pick you up. All of you. And I don’t mean in my car,” he threatened. “Tell, how well do you think your mother will react to being teleported by your boyfriend? Bobby and Ellen? Your friends?” Dean shook his head again. 

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesced. “I’ll come home early, and I’ll try to make sure everyone gets their asses to their hideaways in time, but I make no guarantees.”

“If I know they’re not safe – and I will know – I’m teleporting them here.”

“All right, I’ll do what I can,” Dean nodded, heading for the door. Cas stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You know I’m doing this because I care about you, right?” he said, voice low, eyes open and honest. Dean stared right back into them, feeling a bit like Jell-O as Cas starkly and shamelessly spoke the words. “You need to know that I’m doing this because I can’t control what’s going to happen, and I can’t protect you like I normally could, and that’s terrifying. I am terrified of losing you.” Dean smiled what was probably the sappiest smile of his life, but he honestly didn’t give a single shit. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend then, pulling him in for a kiss that was also sappy as all hell. He pulled back and smiled at him reverently, their noses brushing.

“Yeah, I know,” he whispered. “I’ll do my best, but you feel free to do any godly shit you need to make yourself feel better.” He smirked then, kissing the corner of Cas’s now pouting mouth. “And to protect us.” Cas smiled then, pecking Dean’s lips once again. 

“I will go to whatever measures necessary,” he swore. 

“My hero,” Dean teased, batting his eyelashes. “I’ve gotta go now, but I promise I’ll be back in time to not die.” He kissed Cas one more time and headed for the door.

“You better be,” he heard Cas call after him. He smiled over his shoulder and winked at him before closing the door behind himself. He took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly as he walked over to the Impala, his heart racing. He was trying to avoid overthinking the information he’d just been given, but it turned out that when there were gods who potentially wanted to eradicate the human race, it was a little difficult not to worry. Especially when the sky was already dark gray with threatening clouds. 

He was practically shaking with nerves once he entered the garage. What if Cas was wrong and he worried everyone for nothing? Or worse, what if Cas was right and thousands of people got hurt because they weren’t prepared? What if the tornado hit even earlier than Cas expected? 

“You alright, son?” Bobby asked as Dean punched in. “You look a little sick.” Dean nodded.

“Just worried about the tornado is all,” he replied, his voice shakier than he’d expected it to be. “I just heard it’s supposed to hit a lot earlier than they were originally guessing. Like, it’s gonna be here in a few hours.” Bobby raised his eyebrows.

“You sure about that?” he asked. Dean was relieved to see he seemed to be believing him. At least he wasn’t telling him he was paranoid. Then again, Bobby had been pretty wary of tornados ever since one had taken his first wife’s life. 

“That’s what I heard,” Dean nodded. “And Cas hurt his knee a few years ago and he says it bothers him when there’s gonna be a storm, and apparently it was hurting like a bitch this morning,” he lied, though he wasn’t really sure why he decided to add that little bluff on the end. Bobby gave him a look before heaving a sigh.

“You think we should close early?” he asked. Dean nodded, incredibly relieved that he hadn’t had to fight Bobby on it.

“Why would we close early?” Ellen demanded, stepping into the office.

“The storm’s coming in a few hours,” Bobby explained. “I don’t wanna take any chances.” Ellen opened her mouth to argue against it, but the two shared a meaningful look and her mouth eventually closed as her eyes softened in understanding. 

“All right, if you say so,” she conceded, sitting down at her desk. Dean let out a relieved breath. 

“Thanks, guys,” he smiled. “Cas has been really worried, so he’ll be happy to hear you guys’ll be safe.” Ellen smiled softly at him.

“That boy’s a real sweetie, isn’t he?” she teased fondly. Dean grinned proudly.

“Hell yeah,” he agreed before heading into the garage. “Make sure Jo and Matt know, too!” he called over his shoulder, though he planned on sending them texts of his own anyway. He did so from under a car, and he sent individual texts to Aaron, Charlie, and Dorothy as well. The responses were varied, and came at different intervals.

Aaron: fuck, for real? i don’t even care if ur wrong or not, i’m getting the fuck out of here. thanks for the heads up man   
Charlie: shit, seriously?? I’ll see if I can make it out of work. maybe I’ll fake some cramps or something, that works every time (;  
Mary: No one at the hospital has heard anything about that. I’ll be careful, and I’m glad you’re being responsible, but we’ll know if it comes. I can’t leave work, sweetie, but I’ll be okay. Love you xx  
Jo: My mom just told me, but I didn’t hear that, and neither did anyone at work. I’m staying at work dude, I can’t just leave.  
Matt: Are you sure? Where did you hear that? I haven’t heard anything from the board about classes being cancelled, so I don’t think I can just leave, and if there is an emergency I should be there for the kids, I shouldn’t leave them with a substitute.   
Dorothy: I didn’t hear that anywhere. It’s probably just false information and paranoia. Thanks for the concern, but until they issue an official warning I’ll be staying at work. 

Dean told Aaron and Charlie to go to Cas’s house as soon as possible, and he did his best to convince Mary, Dorothy, Jo, and Matt, but they wouldn’t budge. He sighed, running a hand over his face. Apparently Cas was going to have to fly them across the city. Great, he thought sarcastically, paling at the thought of their potential reactions when Cas fucking teleported them across the city. He didn’t think it would go over too well with them. 

He was still trying to sway the three of them by the time he got back to Cas’s house.


	9. Chapter 9

Charlie and Aaron were already there when Dean arrived, lounging on Cas’s couch. Cas himself was in the kitchen pacing. “Your boyfriend’s a terrible host,” Charlie joked while perfunctorily flipping through the channels. Aaron grunted in agreement, pulling a Dorito out of a shopping bag Charlie had obviously brought. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t exactly like tornados,” Dean mumbled, heading right into the kitchen. Cas’s arms were around him in an instant.

“You’re home,” he sighed into Dean’s hair before planting a relieved kiss on his lips. Dean’s heart leapt pleasantly at the use of the word “home”; they’d been using it pretty loosely lately, and Dean was surprised to find he didn’t mind. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “But Dorothy, Jo, Matt, and my mom aren’t listening to me,” he whispered, giving Cas a meaningful look. Cas wilted.

“Does that mean I’m gonna have to…?” he asked quietly, trailing off.

“I think so,” Dean answered, clearly less than thrilled with the idea. It was obvious Cas shared his sentiment.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with me doing that?” he asked.

“That’s your decision,” Dean said, kissing him quickly. Cas nodded. 

“All right. Let’s get Charlie and Aaron situated in the storm cellar, then I’ll go get them.” Dean nodded, leading Cas into the living room. “Charlie, Aaron, take my hands,” Cas told them, standing in front of the couch and holding out both arms. The two eyed him in confusion.

“Really?” Dean asked incredulously when he realized what Cas was doing. “To the storm cellar? Which is literally right in the back yard?”

“I don’t see why not,” Cas replied evenly, meeting Dean’s gaze, “they’re going to know in about thirty seconds anyway, and this is quicker.” Dean shook his head, huffing as he hooked his arm around Cas’s elbow in defeat.

“What am I missing here?” Charlie asked, clearly not pleased with the vagueness of the exchange between the two men. 

“Take his hand and you’ll see,” Dean said. Cas looked at Charlie and Aaron expectantly as they exchanged looks. They shrugged and stood up, each taking one of Cas’s hands in their own. Dean braced himself.

“Welcome to my storm cellar,” Cas said, smirking so subtly it was almost imperceptible. Sure enough, they were now in a (very, very nice) storm cellar. The storm shelter behind Dean’s house was only a smidgeon bigger than a bathroom, and had little more than a mattress, an old couch, about thirty water bottles, and a box of nonperishables (some of which were probably at least a little perishable, but Dean did not care to come to terms with that). Cas’s storm cellar, on the other hand, was the size of a nice basement. It was a luxury shelter, something Dean had never witnessed first-hand. It had shelves of food, bunk beds, and a futon as well as a bathroom. An actual bathroom. And a bookshelf full of books (as if Cas didn’t have enough already in his actual house). It was also very nicely lit, whereas Dean’s cellar had one lightbulb that he hadn’t checked the life of in forever. 

“You would have a super fancy storm cellar,” Dean teased fondly, letting go of his boyfriend’s arm as he began exploring the space.

“Um,” Charlie began, her voice high and shaking, “what just happened?”

“I second that, but with an additional what the fuck?” Aaron chimed in, his voice as hysterical as Charlie’s. “Also, this is your storm shelter? How rich are you, dude? No offense, but I didn’t even know you had a job.”

“Teleportation,” Cas answered smoothly. “And I own a bee farm with a friend. Dean and I will explain the first thing once I retrieve your more stubborn loved ones.” And then he was gone, leaving Dean to console his friends. 

“Dean,” Charlie squeaked, “did your boyfriend just disappear?” 

“Also, your boyfriend is a bee farmer?” Aaron tacked on.

“He sure did,” he replied, gathering Charlie up in his arms. “He’ll be back soon, though. And yes, he is a bee farmer, but he also manages its finances and shit, because he’s super smart,” he bragged with a proud grin. 

“How…?” Aaron breathed, clearly having trouble processing the situation. “I mean like, the disappearing thing. Not the bee money thing.” 

“He told you; teleportation,” Dean answered. And then Cas was back with a very frazzled Mary in tow. “Mom,” Dean breathed, a wave of relief crashing over him as he opened her arms for her.

“Dean?” she asked, her voice high and breathy.

“You’re safe now, Mary,” Cas assured her. “I will be back shortly.” And he was gone again.

“What just… where…” she trailed off, allowing herself to curl into her son’s side.

“We’re safe,” he assured her, repeating his boyfriend’s sentiment as he stroked his mother’s hair. “We’re in Cas’s storm cellar.”

“And how exactly are we in Castiel’s storm cellar?” she followed up. 

“Teleportation,” Aaron cut in. “You know, I wouldn’t mind a hug right now either, Dean. I’m feeling a little sick and traumatized too.” Dean huffed a laugh, but invited him into the group hug they’d formed.

“This sick feeling is nothing,” he scoffed. “Cas teleported me to France last night, and let me tell you, that was not easy on my stomach.” 

“You went to France?” Mary gasped. “How was it?” Dean smiled; apparently she was over being scared.

“It was nice,” he answered. “I mean it was dark, and we were only there for like an hour, but it was nice. He took me to a beach and showed me this special algae that glows.”

“That sounds amazing,” she gushed. Dean was about to reply, but he was cut off. 

“Your wife, miss,” Cas’s voice came from behind Charlie. The redhead whirled around to find a very frazzled Dorothy, and they were instantly in one another’s arms. “You’re safe now, Dorothy. I’ll be back with Jo and Mike in a moment.” 

“Wh-where did he just go?” Dorothy demanded. “Where are we?”

“Cas’s storm shelter,” Dean explained. “And you heard him; he went to go get Jo and Mike.”

“But he…”

“Teleported,” Charlie filled in. “Yeah, we haven’t gotten an explanation yet either, but this is actually happening. I’m just sort of going with it.” Her wife just stared at her.

“He has a damn nice storm shelter,” she muttered.

“He co-owns a bee farm,” Mary informed her. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“When did I tell you that?” he asked.

“Oh you didn’t, Castiel did,” she answered. “We talk a lot more than you think,” she smirked. Dean beamed at that; he loved the image he got in his head of Mary and Cas, two of the most important people in his life sitting down in Dean’s childhood living room drinking tea and just enjoying each other’s company. 

“What the fuck,” Jo’s voice came suddenly as she appeared, she and her husband each gripping the sleeves of Cas’s coat in this fists like a lifeline. 

“Joanna Beth, language,” Mary scolded playfully. Jo then looked around the room, very dazed.

“What?” she repeated.

“We’re in Cas’s storm shelter. He just teleported you here. He owns a bee farm,” Dean listed. Matt’s eyes widened.

“You own a bee farm?” he gasped, whirling to face Cas.

“Really?” Jo asked, clearly still short of breath. “No offense, honey, but that’s what you’re concerned with right now?” 

“Can you really blame me for getting excited about knowing a guy who owns a bee farm?” he replied.

“Well, we also just teleported, apparently, so like, priorities,” she huffed. He pondered that for a moment.

“Yeah, I’d kind of rather not think about that. Bee farms are less mind shattering.” 

“Hey, sorry, but um, is anyone going to explain what the hell is going on?” Charlie butted in. Cas sighed, looking to Dean. The only response Dean could give him was what he hoped was a supportive look. Cas moved to stand beside Dean, who took his hand in his own. Cas took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry to have alarmed you, but I had to make sure you were all safe,” he explained. “The tornado is comer much sooner than the news is reporting. It will be here shortly. And I know this because, as you may have already assumed, I’m…” He trailed off then, clearly nervous. Dean squeezed his hand, moving fractionally closer to him and meeting everyone’s eyes. Mostly everyone looked a bit shaken and scared, but also very curious. Dorothy and Jo’s were the only ones that held real skepticism, and even theirs held their fair share of wonder. “I’m not exactly… human.” 

“Yeah, I think we got that,” Jo muttered, fidgeting a bit as she held Matt’s hand in her own. 

“So you’re not human,” Dorothy said, her arms wrapped protectively around Charlie. “Are you gonna tell us what you are?” she asked. Dean rubbed his thumb across Cas’s hand, as he was clearly terrified of telling them the truth. 

“I doubt you’ll believe me,” he all but whispered, looking down.

“Basically, he’s a badass,” Dean cut in, adding a quick, “sorry, mom,” for his language. “And when he does decide to tell you who he is, you’re gonna believe him. No matter how crazy it sounds, it’s true,” he stated. Cas shot him a grateful smile. 

“Okay, I would first like to clarify that I am not a vampire, fairy, witch, or anything like that,” Cas said, smiling a bit. It spread to Charlie, Matt, and Mary.

“Rats,” Charlie joked. Dean could feel Cas relax beside him, and he shot his best friend a look of gratitude for her help lightening the situation. But he could tell Cas was still uncomfortable, and everyone was eyeing him expectantly.

It was Mary who spoke up next. “Castiel, honey, you know you don’t need to do or say anything you don’t want to – especially if you just saved all of our lives.” Cas and Dean both smiled at her, extremely grateful for the surprising ease of her acceptance. And to think Dean once thought telling her he was dating another guy would be hard for her to take.

“It just sounds so ridiculous saying it out loud, having spent so many years on Earth,” he mumbled, taking a deep breath. “Would any of you believe me if I told you I was a god?” he asked timidly, shrinking back into Dean. 

The question was followed by a pregnant moment of silence. Jo was the first to bark out a laugh. “Okay. Works with me. You know, I don’t really believe you, but I’m also not really believing that I teleported, and apparently that actually happened, so I really have no clue what’s going on right now. So you’re a god. Okay. Fine.” She burst into a fit of giggles then, but they were tainted with a tinge of panic as she threw her hands up in the air and began pacing. Matt was wearing a mixed expression of awe and confusion. Mary seemed impressed, which made Dean smile.

“A god,” Charlie repeated, a smile growing on her face as Cas nodded bashfully. “Talk about relationship goals, am I right?” she joked, winking at Dean who flushed in return. He knew that moment would forever be at the top of the list of times he was most grateful to have Charlie as his best friend.

“Really?” Dorothy asked incredulously. “This is information that you just accept, no questions asked?” She turned to Cas then. “Listen Cas, you’re a really nice guy, but I need more proof than just your word if you’re gonna tell me you’re a god.”

“That’s very reasonable,” Cas nodded. “I would do more than simple teleportation, but unfortunately there’s something more pressing going on right now. Once this blows over I will be more than happy to do party tricks and give piggyback rides across the world.” Dean burst out laughing; he wasn’t sure if Cas had meant to sound so subtly snarky or not, but he found it hilarious, and he caught the infinitesimal twitch of the corner of his boyfriend’s lips. 

“If you’re a god can’t you just stop the storm?” Dorothy asked. That question got everyone’s attention. Dean and Cas exchanged a knowing look before Cas sighed, shaking his head.

“Were this a naturally occurring storm I could potentially thwart it, yes,” he answered, “but it would be very difficult from down here.” 

“What do you mean this storm isn’t naturally occurring?” Mary asked, voicing everyone’s concerns and sounding worried for the first time since she got to the storm shelter.

“Well, we believe that other of my… kind have been causing the natural disasters that have been happening lately,” Cas explained.

“No offense, but are you sure it’s not just, you know, climate change?” Matt chimed in.

“Oh, that’s definitely part of it,” Cas agreed. He then cocked his head to the side. “Which actually makes this situation a bit ironic, as those in my praesidium who aren’t as fond of human kind claimed to dislike you so much because you’ve done so much harm to our father’s creation, and yet they retaliate by reproducing the very effects on this planet they condemn your species for creating.” There was another moment of silence as Cas went off in his own head for a moment. Dean was still having trouble getting used to the way Cas was separating himself more and more from the human race, and therefore from Dean, and their family and friends.

“What?” Aaron finally said. “Why are you using Latin words and talking about divine vengeance?” 

“Praesidium means guard in Latin. My ‘group’, I suppose I’ll call it, was assigned to preside over this specific universe,” he explained. 

“This universe?” Charlie all but squeaked. “How many universes are there?”

“An infinite amount,” Cas shrugged. Charlie opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Please don’t start asking me about when time began, when it will end, what was there before there was anything, where does it all end, what is infinity, et cetera. I don’t have the answers either. The only who would know would be my father.” Everyone stared for a moment again.

“Well I hadn’t really thought of those things before, but thank you for making me feel like my head’s imploding a little,” Aaron replied. 

“Who’s this ‘father’ you keep mentioning?” Dorothy inquired. 

“Well, he goes by many names, ‘Father of All’ and ‘the Creator’ being the most popular. He’s where everything began. He is the power of everything you might say,” Cas answered.

“So there is a God?” Jo asked, a bit breathless. Cas sighed, clearly a bit frustrated.

“No, there is no one God. I’m a god, as are all of my equals. Our father is something far beyond our primal comprehension. I really shouldn’t be personifying him either, as he and all of my kind are so much more than that; I’m only speaking of us in more relatively personified terms because in reality we are entities beyond what the human mind can fathom. Humans have a history of placing their faith in powers that tend to take the shape of Earthly beings. It’s actually very interesting-”

“Wait,” Aaron cut him off (much to Cas’s disappointment, and what almost seemed to be a hint of annoyance), “does this mean I rotted away in Hebrew school for all those years for no reason?” he asked, clearly enraged. Cas, not familiar with Aaron’s “loose” dedication to his faith, gave him one of the most heartbroken looks Dean had ever seen.

“Of course not!” he exclaimed. “All human faiths and religions are completely valid! Religion doesn’t have to be correct, that’s not the point; the point of religion – for many, at least – is to be a guide, a shelter. Yes, it was used to answer questions that were seemingly unanswerable, but just because what a certain religion says doesn’t line up with what reality may be doesn’t mean that it’s any less important.”

“That was beautiful, Castiel,” Mary lauded him, a soft smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes. 

“Okay, so I’m still having some trouble accepting this,” Dorothy cut in. “Sorry Cas, I don’t mean to talk about you like you’re not here, but Dean, are you sure you’re not dating a psychopath?” Dean wasn’t sure if he found that funny or offensive, so he simply rolled his eyes.

“He’s perfectly sane,” he assured her, squeezing Cas’s hand again. Dorothy turned to Mary then.

“And you’re sure there’s nothing wrong with them?” she checked.

“Nothing mentally,” confirmed. “There was always something off about Castiel, though.” That made Dean’s heart leap in slight panic, until he saw that his mother was smiling fondly at the two of them. “You know, I always wondered why the hospital equipment was going so crazy in your room that day all those years ago. The other nurses blamed the wiring in that wing, but I always thought it was something else,” she confessed. Cas blushed.

“I hope I didn’t break anything,” he mumbled embarrassedly. Mary shook her head, giggling softly.

“A god being treated in a human hospital. Imagine that,” she said, smiling in slight wonder.

“Well, I was in quite terrible shape after my fall,” he explained. “It was all very helpful, truly.” Mary’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“What do you mean after your fall?” she asked. “Is that why you were unconscious?” Cas nodded.

“When I chose to come down to Earth, the experience was… harsher than I had anticipated. And it had far more side effects than I realized it would.” Mary nodded. A look of realization sparked in her then.

“So your ‘amnesia’ was a lie to cover up the fact that you weren’t even really a person?” she asked, a smile playing across her lips. Cas failed to suppress his proud grin as he nodded. “Impressive thinking,” she beamed in approval. Cas thanked her humbly. He stiffened then, his eyes going wide and then narrowing. 

“What is it?” Dean asked immediately, placing a gentle hand on his boyfriend’s arm as worry coursed through him. He could feel something travel through him as his fingertips came to rest against Cas’s arm, and suddenly he could hear the haunting, violent whirl of wind of an approaching twister. “Shit, is it really that close?” he asked. Cas nodded.

“We’re safe though, don’t worry,” he assured him. He turned to Dean quickly then. “You can hear it?” he asked then in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s loud as hell,” he answered. Cas narrowed his eyes before yanking his arm away from Dean’s reach. It went silent in Dean’s head. “Now there’s nothing,” he said, his voice riddled with suspicion as Cas’s eyes widened.

“Fascinating,” he whispered.

“Okay, I don’t know what kind of psychic magic trick science experiment of love you guys have going on right now,” Jo began, “but did you say the storm was practically right above us?” Cas nodded. “I don’t hear a thing.” Cas stiffened again then, but more in the way a child who’d been caught eating dessert before dinner would.

“Cas,” Dean said slowly, “how far below the ground is your storm shelter?” 

“Farther than you thought,” he answered. “I may have been a bit modest in calling it a storm cellar,” he admitted. “It’s really more of a panic bunker.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “We are in my backyard though, I promise,” he rushed to add. 

“I think we’re just a little surprised that you have a panic bunker,” Charlie said, huffing out a small, breathless laugh. “How big is this thing?” Cas grinned.

“Much larger than this,” he confessed. “This is a nuclear bomb drop bunker.” There was a thorough bit of laughter from everyone then. 

“Does a god need protection from a nuclear bomb?” Matt asked.

“In this state of being I might,” Cas answered. “I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry. Also, if this storm had been a nuclear bomb, I would have a way to keep all of you safe.”

“You couldn’t just fly us to Fiji?” Jo suggested jokingly. Cas grinned.

“That might be a bit jarring for all of you,” he retorted. “Besides, this bunker is far more convenient, and it’s a safer commute.” He perked up again then, looking up. His jaw clenched. “It’s very close now. I’m going to try to contain it,” he said.

“Contain it?” Dean asked, really not liking how that sounded.

“I can’t stop it, but I can shrink it,” Cas explained. He braced himself then, repositioning his feet on the concrete floor of the bunker and closing his eyes. He held his hands low out in front of him. His muscles tensed then, and Dean felt something within himself. He felt strained, but it wasn’t his struggle – it was the spiritual feeling Cas had mentioned the night before. A high pitched buzz filled the space then.

“What’s that buzzing noise?” Charlie asked. She looked to Cas then, clearly worried. “Is that you?” 

“Yes,” Cas grunted, his breathlessness an obvious indicator that he was struggling far more than he was showing. “My apologies.”

“Is it working?” Dorothy asked hesitantly. “Is the storm getting smaller?” 

“Yes,” Cas answered. “However, it’s still larger than I’d like it to be,” he admitted. “I’m not as strong ‘down here’ as they are ‘up there’, and it seems like this is the work of more than one of them.” He slid back then, gasping as though he’d been punched in the stomach. Dean’s hands were immediately on his shoulders, worry coursing through him. However, his breath caught as soon as he came into contact with him. 

At first all he felt was a searing, excruciating pain, like sore muscles that felt like they were on fire after an exceptionally strenuous workout. But it was gone after a moment, and suddenly Dean felt light. 

“Dean, no,” Cas said weakly. “Stop touching me, you could get hurt.”

“Wait, is this… am I helping?” he asked breathlessly in response. Cas met his gaze and was silent for a moment.

“I think you are, yes,” he admitted quietly. “But I don’t know how exactly, which means I have no idea what could happen to you. So please, let go.”

“Why don’t you make me?” he teased, but there wasn’t much heat behind it; he was feeling a bit light headed, tired. But only slightly.

“I can’t,” Cas retorted, clearly becoming frustrated with his boyfriend and his stubbornness. “I won’t be able to get a second grip on the storm if I let it go to shake you off.”

“Why should I let go? I’m helping,” Dean replied. “And I feel fine,” he lied. Cas shot him a doubtful look. “Cas, if I can help tone down this storm and cause less damage to the city, maybe even save a few lives, I don’t care about what could happen to me. I’m doing fine.”

“Dean, please,” Cas begged, lowering his volume so that only Dean could hear him. “Don’t do this. Please, just this once think about yourself.” Dean felt strange hearing that – not flattered, and not happy, but rather uncomfortable, really. He really didn’t think of himself as a selfless person. 

“So, how’s the hold on the storm?” he asked, trying to stay bright whilst changing the subject. But he was feeling even more drained, and he felt himself leaning more and more of his weight on Cas. 

“Much more manageable,” Cas assured him, but he still sounded labored. “In fact, I believe you can let go of me now.” Dean rolled his eyes, but just that minute action made him a bit dizzy. He leaned his head against Cas’s shoulder and sighed sleepily. “It’s much smaller now, Dean, I can definitely manage this on my own. Please, let go. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” But Dean was too drained and too stubborn to do anything but hold onto Cas. His boyfriend’s voice began to float away as Dean shut his eyes. 

 

He felt warm. He was floating on the ocean, the waves rocking him back and forth, and the sun was warm on his skin. He knew he was safe.

And yet, something was off. Something was wrong. He was floating, but he was stuck. The waves were rocking him, lulling him, but they were also trying to get him to move, something he found he couldn’t do. But he was supposed to move, he was supposed to be going toward something, he could feel it. It was difficult, and his limbs didn’t quite feel like his own, but he did his best to move toward his destination.

 

The first thing he registered when he came to was the hand running through his hair. He sighed contentedly, burrowing further into his boyfriend’s warmth. “Dean?” Cas asked, worry clear in his voice. Dean just hummed in return, but then Cas was moving, and Dean was being jostled. He groaned and peeked open his eyes, realizing his head had been resting in Cas’s lap, and the two of them were in Cas’s bed, Dean’s legs slung across Cas’s. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? How’s your head? How do you feel?” he demanded, barely stopping to finish a question before he was onto the next. 

“I’m fine,” Dean grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He tried to sit up, but he still felt a little weird. He felt like his limbs weren’t really his own, like in the weird ass dream he’d had.

“You were asleep for almost fourteen hours,” Cas whispered after a pause. His voice sounded choked. Dean sat up a bit, but he was still a little groggy, so he settled for tilting his head to look at his boyfriend. Cas was shaking his head, and he looked wrecked – his hair was a mess, a sign that he’d surely been running his hands through it, a nervous habit of his. Dean consulted the clock on the bedside table and found the numbers read 1:53 AM. “You’re sure you’re all right? You need to tell me if something is wrong so I can fix it,” Cas said. Dean smiled up at him, the gesture full of sentimentality; there was something about Cas’s protectiveness, the way he unabashedly showed Dean how much he cared, that made Dean feel weak in the knees, his chest blooming with warmth.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dean assured him. “Just a little tired is all. And I feel a little tingly, but I’m guessing that’s just a side effect of the whole ‘sharing our life forces to take down the big bad evil storm’ thing we had going on.” He shot Cas an easy grin, but it was clear the latter was not feeling as easy about the situation as his boyfriend. “How did that go by the way?” Dean inquired, slowly sitting up further. Still, he stayed curled in Cas’s lap and leaned heavily into his chest. Cas wrapped one arm around Dean’s waist while the other ran absently through his hair. Dean preened surreptitiously under the touch. 

“The storm curbed significantly,” Cas reported without enthusiasm. “It didn’t end up do nearly as much damage as it would have otherwise.” Dean wanted to ask more about what happened after he blacked out, but Cas clearly didn’t want to linger on the subject. “God, please never do that again,” he begged, pressing kisses into Dean’s hair and across his forehead and cheeks. Dean felt a calmness rush through him, but it was also warm and passionate. It was safe, and comfortable, and when Cas’s lips finally met with his own, it felt like coming home. “I was so worried,” Cas whispered, his voice wavering as he cradled Dean’s head in his hands, pressing their foreheads together.

“Hey, I’m right here,” Dean said, gently taking one of Cas’s wrists and stroking the smooth, delicate skin there lightly with his thumb. He kissed him again, slower and more tenderly than the previous one. “I’m right here,” he repeated in a breath against his lips. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Cas told him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I can’t imagine… if something had happened to you…”

“Well, nothing happened to me.” That statement received a small glare in response. “All right, well, not nothing, but I’m fine.” He pecked Cas’s lips once more before rearranging himself so that he was sitting up more. “How’s everyone else?”

“A little shaken up, but no one’s hurt. They’re all extremely worried about you, especially Mary. She’ll probably want me to call her and let her know you’re okay.” 

“I’m sorry for making all of you worry,” he apologized. “But you looked like you were gonna hurt yourself, and then I realized I was helping, and I figured…” Cas shushed him before he couldn’t finish his statement.

“Don’t worry about any of us,” he said, kissing his forehead again. “However, while you’re forgiven for this incident, please don’t ever worry us like that again.” Dean grinned.

“I’ll try not to.” He was smiling, but there was another question that was bothering him. “So are the guys who started the storm gonna realize someone messed with it?” he asked a bit hesitantly. Cas sighed, running his fingers over Dean’s shoulder.

“It’s a definite possibility,” he confirmed. “And if they notice, they’ll know it was me. Oh god, what if I put you in danger?” he mumbled to himself. “This is all my fault, Dean. I’m so sorry.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, listen to me,” Dean said, lifting Cas’s chin with his finger so they were eye to eye. “This is not your fault. It’s not your fault some douchebag gods wanna kill of the human race one drought and storm at a time.” Cas shook his head weakly.

“Yes, it is,” he insisted. “Dean, I didn’t hold an extraordinarily important position, but when I fell, I made quite a spectacle of myself. It was seen as an act of rebellion by some, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find they were following my lead.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dean argued. “You fell because you loved humanity, you wanted to join us. You didn’t try to destroy our species.” Cas shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean noticed Cas’s fingers fidgeting then. He noticed how he’d gone stiff again and wasn’t meeting Dean’s gaze. 

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Dean guessed, sitting up fully and removing himself from Cas’s lap. He didn’t like when Cas left him in the dark. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” Cas sighed, his eyes flickering to meet Dean’s.

“Yes,” he admitted with difficulty. “There was something I did a long time ago. I hadn’t fallen yet, but it… ruffled things up there. Certainly gave me a reputation.” Dean sat silent, waiting for Cas to go on. He wilted again, but went on. “There’s no set destiny for any human’s life – it’s all decided by the choices you all make. However, gods are supposed to be watchers; we aren’t supposed to interfere with human affairs, or change the future for any of you.”

“You did,” Dean guessed. Cas nodded, but he was looking away again. “Cas,” Dean said, trying to get his attention. But it didn’t work, Cas still wouldn’t meet his eye. “Cas, what did you do?” 

“I don’t know if you’ll want to know,” he whispered. “I figured I’d have to tell you someday, but I never really thought about when, or how.” That didn’t settle Dean at all. In fact, his stomach was turning a bit, his pulse quickening in slight panic in response to Cas’s tone and evasive, guilty body language. 

“I’m sorry I’m dragging this out,” Cas apologized, “it’s just… It’s hard to bring it up. It personally pertains to you and your life, and I don’t know how to approach it.” Cas looked like he was on the verge of tears, and Dean sure didn’t feel very easy about the fact that Cas had somehow intervened with Dean’s destiny before they even really knew each other. Cas took a deep breath and blinked away the wetness in his eyes, meeting Dean’s intent yet somewhat scared gaze. “I’m not sure how to say this… because it has to do with your father.” Dean’s stomach sank instantly. “It has to do with his death.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Explicit Sexual Content

Dean felt like he was going to throw up. “Wh-what?” he choked out. “What do you… did you have something to do with my dad dying?” he asked, his voice almost nothing more than a quavering breath. He edged away from Castiel. He could see the heartbreak in his blue eyes as he did so, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

“Inadvertently,” he admitted. “I don’t want you thinking that was anything I ever wanted to happen.” Dean didn’t know if he’d ever heard more genuine emotion in Cas’s voice. He also wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to run away from him so badly before. “Dean… your father wasn’t supposed to die in that fire. Your mother was.” Dean paled immediately, his stomach threatening to empty itself.

He didn’t remember his father very well, but he liked to think he remembered him fondly. However, the reality of the situation was that he really didn’t remember much at all. He could recall pictures of his father holding him in his arms, but he couldn’t remember the feeling. He could see a grainy, faded image of his father’s face in his mind, but he could never recall the way he smelled. And though he hated to admit it, he could remember his father’s voice, but only the roughness of it as he argued with Mary during the nights once Sam and Dean were supposedly asleep. He did his best to dispel those memories, because they didn’t line up with the smiling pictures Dean had kept of him. The sadness Dean associated with that yelling voice was too much of a contradiction to the brave, loyal man who was described at his father’s funeral, or to the sweet yet complicated man Mary sometimes would talk about with sadness and nostalgia in her voice. So Dean didn’t think about his voice when he thought about his father. He also didn’t like to reminisce on the shouts of his father fighting with his mother, because those shouts usually morphed into the screams Dean heard in his nightmares, the ones that told him, his brother, and their mother to get out of the house, the screams that were engulfed by the crackling of flames and faded out as Mary whisked her two sons out to the safety of the house down the street. 

“So you traded my dad’s life for my mom’s,” Dean muttered numbly. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he was angry or not – he wasn’t sure he was processing any of it at all. One thing he knew for sure was that he couldn’t imagine a life without Mary. Still, that didn’t make the information much easier to digest. Cas shook his head. 

“I was trying to get you all out,” he said. “But I should have known better. Humans are wildly unpredictable, I should have known my actions would have consequences.” He swallowed then, and for all the emotion and remorse Cas was showing, Dean couldn’t get himself to have much of a reaction at all. He just felt ill. 

“Maybe I should start at the beginning,” Cas suggested in response to Dean’s silence. Dean just nodded very slowly, lifelessly. Cas took a breath before beginning. “Your mother had a bit of a shaky adolescence,” he began. Dean knew a little bit about that – Mary had revealed a bit about the struggles of her teen years when Dean was struggling himself through the tail end of middle school and entry to high school. “I won’t go into detail – that’s for her to share with you – but I will tell you that she prayed quite a lot. Now, prayers don’t go directly to us, but we can hear them if we choose to. I always liked to listen to prayers to see if there were any small changes I could make, ones that wouldn’t make any massive change in anyone’s timeline of life. And one day I heard Mary praying, and I could tell she really needed something positive to happen. She asked for a sign that things were going to be all right.” Cas’s small grin was bittersweet as he recalled the memory. “She was listening to the radio, and I made sure her favorite song at the time played right then. It was inconsequential enough, and it lifted her spirits that little bit. 

“Now, I didn’t usually revisit someone once I’d helped them – trying to avoid favoritism and getting attached and all that – but I felt a sort of fondness over Mary immediately, a sort of protectiveness. It’s a rare thing to find a soul that it so genuinely good and well-intentioned as your mother’s,” he told him. Dean managed a small smile at that, because yeah, his mom was pretty awesome, and the most selfless person he’d ever met. “But she was so incredibly strong, too. So I went on doing what I normally did, watching over the human race and making sure everything was in order, but I would check in on Mary on occasion, just to make sure she was holding up all right. I remember how excited she was to be married, and to be having a child.” Dean blushed then; so apparently Cas had been watching over him all along – which was a weird mix of uncomfortable but also very nice. 

“I was always warned to not get too close to humans, especially not any in particular. I wasn’t constantly watching over her, and I never intended on interfering too heavily in her life, but I really should’ve listened when I was told to not get attached. Because not only had I gotten myself emotionally invested in Mary, but I also cared about you and Sam, and the future Mary’s death would create for you.” He was getting emotional again, but he was trying not to show it. Dean’s head was spinning. “Your father was a good man, and he loved you and your brother, but he wasn’t nearly as strong as Mary. He loved her with everything he had, and he would never be the same after her death. The life that was set out for you and Sam after your mother was gone was not a life any child should have to live. I really shouldn’t have interfered, but I couldn’t watch you two go through that. I thought if I got Mary out in time that you would all be able to get out, and that you’d live as a family and nothing too drastic would change… but I didn’t account for the fact that when you change one thing, a million other things change with it.” 

Dean felt feverish; he could feel the heat from that night, he could taste the smoke scratching at his throat, engulfing all of his senses. He remembered how the stale smell clung to his hair, and his clothing. How it attached to his mother as he clung to her and watched the vibrant flames eat up their house. He remembered the sirens, and he remembered his mother’s silent tears as she held her two sons to her. 

And he remembered his mother ordering him down the stairs, but he also remembered that Sam needed his blanket. Sam took that blanket everywhere – he needed it. So Dean had ducked under his father’s arm and ran into Sam’s room. His father was right on his heels and scooped him up as soon as the blanket was in his hands. But then the roof caved in, and blocked a good part of the doorway. Dean could hear his mother scream, could hear his father shouting at her to get Sam and Dean out as he handed Dean to Mary through the small, toddler-sized hole that was left in the doorway. 

“It was my fault,” Dean whispered, tears finally stinging in his eyes, his body finally reacting. “I got my dad killed. You tried to save us all, and I got my dad killed over a fucking blanket.” He was practically seething then, the tears falling more quickly. God, he wanted to break something.

“Dean, that is not true,” Cas growled. “You were four years old, nothing that happened that night was your fault. I shouldn’t have interfered with something of that scale.” Dean sprang up from the bed and began pacing. 

“It’s my fault,” he repeated, running his fingers through his hair. “You saved my mom, and I fucked it up.” He was sobbing then, and Cas interrupted his pacing by stepping into his path and gathering Dean into his arms. Dean submitted and fell into the embrace, pressing his face into Cas’s shoulder as he let out his frustration.

“It’s not your fault,” Cas whispered, rubbing Dean’s back. “I don’t want you to ever feel responsible for my mistakes.” Dean caught his breath and sniffled, but he didn’t say anything else. He didn’t want to argue with Cas. “Let’s get you back into bed, okay?” Cas said gently, guiding Dean back to the bed. He crawled in and Cas sat beside him. “Do you want me to get you something to eat?” he asked. Dean nodded after a moment, silent tears still welling in his eyes. He swallowed thickly, blinking them back.

“Just as long as you don’t cook it,” he teased weakly, the two exchanging small, tired smiles. Cas kissed Dean carefully on his forehead before getting up. “Cas?” Dean called. His boyfriend turned in the doorway. “Thank you,” he said. “For saving my mom, and for being here for me…” he trailed off. Cas smiled, but it was bittersweet again, and tainted with hints of remorse and guilt. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” He turned then and went off to get whatever food he thought fit. Dean sighed and fell back to the pillows, trying to make sense of what he was feeling.

He couldn’t imagine growing up in a life without his mom, and he was incredibly grateful that he didn’t need to. 

When Cas came back, he crawled into bed with a glass of water, a banana, and a bowl full of cut up cucumber and cantaloupe. Dean made a face. “Don’t we have any Pop Tarts?” he asked. Cas smiled and rolled his eyes.

“I have no idea how our little stunt is affecting you right now, so forgive me if I want to be safe about what you put in your body for now.” Dean rolled his eyes back at him, but he kissed his cheek and sipped the water before he began peeling the banana. Cas took one of Dean’s hands once he began eating, and the scars on Cas’s palms reminded Dean of another memory, and more flames. This one, however, was much less clear. 

“Cas?” Dean asked. His boyfriend hummed in response. “Were you in LA in April 2005?” he asked. Cas went a bit still and swallowed. Dean narrowed his eyes at him, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Were you Steve?” 

“I’m sure there were a lot of Steve’s in Los Angeles in April of 2005,” he blushed, but he was smiling knowingly. Dean returned the gesture. 

“So you saved me from a fire tornado,” he concluded, stroking the scars on his hands lightly. “Is that where you got these scars from?” Cas nodded hesitantly.

“I was a bit too close, and not as strong as I’d hoped,” he answered. “I hadn’t gotten a grip on it as soon as I should have.”

“How did you find me?” Dean asked softly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“I could feel your distress,” he explained with a shrug. “It was like your soul was calling out to me. I don’t know how, but it could have something to do with the fact that you can feel my grace when I’m around you,” he pondered. His eyes widened then. 

“What is it?” Dean prompted through a mouth full of banana. Cas turned to him, a slightly guilty, wary look on his face. 

“Do you think you can handle some more information, or would you rather sleep first?” he asked. Dean wilted a bit.

“Am I gonna get mad at you?” he asked, half joking.

“I hope not,” Cas replied. Then, in response to the look Dean shot him, he added, “I really don’t think so,” in reassurance. 

“Lay it on me,” Dean permitted, leaning back and picking at the melon. 

“A little more than a year after the fire, when you were five, you got a terrible case of pneumonia,” Cas started. Dean nodded; he vaguely remembered it – mainly because he remembered his mom worrying about his health for a good decade afterward. “Well, you were very sick, and since you were so young it was a very delicate situation. Now, I had been trying to be less attached to your family and humans in general, but Mary’s prayers were so clear in my head… it got to the point where I could no longer ignore her, I couldn’t allow myself to let her go through that sort of pain, especially just a year after what I’d put her through.” Dean wanted to interrupt him then to remind him that it wasn’t his fault, but he figured it was better to let Cas get this story off his chest rather than argue about fault and blame. “She was so worried about you.” He wouldn’t look at Dean then. “So I… well, I healed you.” He smirked a bit. “The doctors called it a miracle.” 

“I thought you helped people all the time,” Dean said. “Why was curing me of pneumonia such a big deal?” Cas went rigid again, but it wasn’t from discomfort. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly.

“You were practically on the brink of death,” he answered, his voice low and betraying his emotions. “It wasn’t like I took away a cold, or stopped what could’ve been a terrible disease before it happened. Those things are usually overlooked, but practically bringing someone back when they’re so far on the other side of chance of recovering… it’s frowned upon. Actions like that can have after effects.”

“So you think that’s why we have this… connection?” Dean asked, at loss for a better word. (Honestly, he wasn’t sure he needed a better word, but it still felt strange coming out of his mouth.) 

“It’s definitely possible. I mean, when I healed you, traces of my grace were embedded in your soul,” Cas stated, his brow furrowed as though he was in the middle of solving a puzzle. “I didn’t think they’d have any kind of effect, or even stay there, but I guess I was wrong.” 

It was… a lot. A lot of weight, a lot of information that Dean how no idea what to do with. He had traces of Cas’s grace in his soul, which was weird, but a part of him also kind of liked the idea of it. After all, it was the result of Cas saving his life. That didn’t make it any less bizarre, but it felt less unwarranted and intrusive knowing it hadn’t been intentional, and that it was the product of Cas’s tendency to care way more than what was good for him. Dean really wasn’t as concerned with that information as he’d expect to be. He even found himself smiling at the concept. 

“Thank you,” Dean whispered finally. “Thanks for telling me, for not making my mom go through that… for saving my life.” He smiled then, overwhelmed with an emotion he was afraid to label as he looked at Cas. 

“I do think it may be the best decision I ever made,” Cas said. Dean’s breath was taken away from him as his throat became thick. He kissed Cas then, and Cas gently laid him down on the rumpled blankets and sheets.

“Wait, the food,” Dean remembered, not wanting to get produce all in the sheets.

“It’s taken care of,” Cas assured him. Sure enough, the banana and bowl of fruit were safely on the bedside table. Perks of having a magical boyfriend, Dean mused. However, he was soon distracted by the much more exciting parts of having a god as a boyfriend – such as the sensation that coursed through him as Cas reclaimed his lips, running his hands reverently over Dean’s torso. It felt like a storm after a drought; there was a rush, and it felt like a cleansing, as if white rapids were washing away the dirt under his skin, sparkling and white and forceful, meaningful and with purpose. 

Dean was suddenly filled with desire – and not just carnal want, but something deeper. He wanted something from Cas he couldn’t explain. Sure, Cas had fucked him plenty of times (and it had been amazing, no questioning that), but Dean needed something deeper than sex. Cas had asked Dean on more than one occasion when he was going to let him make love to him. Dean had always smirked and kissed Cas, leaving him with a teasing, “soon,” and a playful remark about how sappy Cas was. But right then, after the emotional exhaustion of laying out the laundry and bringing everything to light, Dean felt closer to his boyfriend than ever. He pulled back from the kiss, framing Cas’s face with his hands and meeting his eyes. Smiling softly, but with a playful twinkle in his eyes, he asked quietly, “Make love to me?”

Cas melted immediately. “Are you sure you don’t want to rest first?” He beamed when Dean nodded encouragingly, kissing him with a fervor that crushed their grinning lips together. His mouth then found its way to Dean’s jaw, his neck. “Dean Winchester,” he declared against his heated skin, “I am going to take such good care of you.” And Dean knew he meant it. He gave himself over, watching his boyfriend with adoring eyes as he kissed his praises into Dean’s collarbone. He sat up on his knees then, pulling Dean up with him, cradling his face with one hand and gripping the front of his shirt with the other. “Arms up,” Cas murmured, nipping at Dean’s earlobe.

“Can’t you just zap it off?” Dean joked. Cas smirked.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Dean chuckled in response, raising his arms up so Cas could remove his shirt. He then loosened his tie, something he knew drove Dean crazy. Dean helped him unbutton his shirt, moving along the process. Cas was guiding Dean back onto the bed as soon as the clothes were on the floor. He also then realized that they’re pants and socks were gone, leaving the two in just their underwear. Cas smirked at Dean’s reaction. “Belts and socks are tedious.” Dean grinned then, accepting the kiss Cas planted on his lips. His hands roamed over Dean’s torso, leaving ripples of pleasure in their wake. Dean’s skin heated as Cas’s kisses travelled across his jaw and throat, deepening and morphing into biting and marking. Dean dug his fingers into Cas’s arms, his toes curling as Cas’s thumbs grazed his lower stomach, teasingly snapping at the elastic band of his briefs. “You’re magnificent,” Cas praised, kissing wet, uncalculated, yet purposeful kisses across Dean’s reddened chest. 

“I’m so glad I have you,” Dean murmured, running his fingers across Cas’s back and kissing the top of his head. His heart raced wildly in his chest as he whispered words he wouldn’t have thought he’d ever have the courage to speak aloud. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

“I could say the same,” Cas replied, flashing his boyfriend a grin before flicking his tongue across one of his nipples. Dean gasped, laughing airily. Cas’s fingers skittered across Dean’s hipbones and the tops of his thighs, and a sensation he suspected to be not-quite-human sang through him. Cas dragged his lips down the center of Dean’ chest, peppering kisses across Dean’s stomach as he made his way down his body. Dean’s breathing hitched as his boyfriend looked up at him, blue eyes smoldering as he nipped at Dean’s hipbones, kissing down the ‘V’ they formed as he dragged Dean’s boxers down. Dean lifted his legs in the air, allowing Cas to shuck off the fabric. He lowered his feet back to the bed, keeping his legs bent, knees up. Cas lay between them, kissing his way up the inside of each of Dean’s thighs. The latter was quivering by the time Cas began kissing at the juncture of his hip and thigh. 

“Wait,” Dean said, reaching toward the bedside table.

“We won’t be needing any of that,” Cas told him, smirking as Dean looked at him in confusion. He teased Dean’s hole with the tip of his tongue, never breaking eye contact. “Lubricant is not something we’ll need to be spending money on anymore.” Dean’s eyes widened slightly in understanding then.

“Perks of dating a god,” he muttered, grinning into Cas’s lust darkened eyes. Cas kissed the inside of his thigh again before returning his mouth to Dean’s entrance. Dean moaned, throwing his head back. His cocked bobbed against his stomach untouched as Cas’s tongue teased him, sending shivers through his whole body. Dean gripped the sheets to keep from touching himself.

“You are marvelous,” Cas babbled, “mind, body, and soul.” Dean blushed at the compliment, unable to think of words to string together; the sensation was clouding his mind. Still, he needed more of Cas.

“Need you,” Dean mumbled. “God, Cas, I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Cas replied, pressing kisses to Dean’s lower stomach as he slid a finger past the small ring of muscle. Dean moaned, his back arching slightly at the sensation. The burn was barely there, more of a pleasant undertone to the wave of pleasure as Cas pumped his finger in and out of him. “I don’t know how I got to be so lucky,” Cas rambled between kisses, stroking Dean’s thigh with his free hand as he squirmed. Dean wasn’t sure how Cas was doing it, but he knew being fingered had never felt so good before. He whimpered as Cas added another finger which was met with no resistance by Dean’s body. He let out something akin to a squeak when Cas began scissoring his fingers within Dean. He circled his hips, grinding down on Cas’s fingers, desperate for more. Cas grinned up at him. “Good?” he asked.

“Fuck, yes,” Dean panted. “Gotta give me more though,” he teased, smirking down at his boyfriend. Cas lifted an eyebrow and Dean was suddenly overcome with pleasure; he felt like he was right on the edge of climax, unable to do much more than make small, choked sounds of approval. 

“Better?” Cas asked, sliding in a third finger.

“Oh my god,” he breathed as Cas brought him back down, the sensation becoming more concentrated as Cas moved his finger inside him. He let out a low moan. “That’s unfair,” he laughed, catching his breath. Then, “Need you, Cas,” he begged, hoping Cas understood what he meant. “Please.” Cas removed his fingers from Dean then, sitting up on his knees. Dean whimpered at the loss, but he swallowed deeply when he looked up to find Cas gripping himself through his boxers. Dean supported himself on his elbows, watching Cas with heated eyes as he dragged his briefs down, his cock bobbing up against his stomach. Dean licked his lips, his dick twitching eagerly. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Dean breathed as Cas removed his boxers. He draped himself over Dean then, gently kissing him as he lay him back down. He took one of Dean’s hands in his own, entwining their fingers while his other hand gripped Dean’s hip.

“You’re sure you trust me with this?” Cas asked, his concern clear. Dean grinned dopily. 

“Yeah, I trust you and your magical lube,” he joked, leaning up for another kiss. His heart was racing in the best way, and he had full faith in Cas. “Now go on and make love to me, you dork,” he winked, grinning through his profuse blushing. Cas pressed kisses to both of his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, and finally his lips as he pressed himself into Dean. He captured his boyfriend’s moan between his lips, and Dean tightened his grip on Cas’s hand. It was smooth and easy and perfect, and the feeling of being so full, of having Cas all around him was incomparable. The sensation he felt was otherworldly. It was nothing like anything he’d ever felt before; it ran through his veins and his every nerve ending, scattering across his skin. He felt it in his chest and gut and wrists. He spread his legs further as Cas began to move, thrusting slowly and gently into him. Cas ran his thumb soothingly over Dean’s hipbone. “God, Cas,” he moaned. “Fuck, feels so good.” He kissed Cas’s face blindly, eliciting a small bout of giggles from the two. Dean ran his fingers through Cas’s hair. “You look really good right now,” he said softly. It was quickly punctuated by a gasp-turned-squeak as Cas rolled his hips, going deeper than before. Cas began nibbling at Dean’s earlobe and kissing the corner of his jaw. 

“Of all the countries I’ve seen, all the planets and universes I’ve visited, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here,” Cas told him, pressing into him further and picking up his pace. “I have never seen anything more marvelous than you, nor felt anything as strong as what you make me feel.” Dean melted beneath the words, overwhelmed by the physical and emotional pleasure, as well as the vibrations that rang through him like a chorus that were apparently on the spiritual level. 

“Always gotta one up my compliments, huh?” he joked. Cas chuckled into the hollow of Dean’s throat, sucking at the skin he found there. “Must be all that poetry you read,” he continued, but his breath was short.

“Maybe I just have an amazing muse,” Cas retorted, kissing Dean’s lips once again. Dean moaned into the kiss, grasping at Cas’s shoulder. Pleasure coursed through him, the multiple sensations jumbling his mind a bit.

“Wanna be close to you,” Dean pleaded when he found his words. “Want all of you.” Cas lifted himself up a bit, changing the angle and looking Dean in the eyes.

“You have me,” he stated, kissing Dean feverously with a passionate groan. “You have all of me,” Cas swore, returning his mouth to Dean’s neck, leaving Dean’s mouth free. His moans rang throughout the room as Cas’s thrusts sped up and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the space. Dean wrapped his legs around Cas, his body shaking with the force pulsing through him. He felt heat in every part of his body, like his soul was clawing for Cas’s grace, or maybe the two were intermingling. Dean’s cock throbbed, precome leaking across his stomach. 

“Oh my god,” he panted, “oh god, Cas. Fuck, deeper, please.” Cas huffed a laugh. 

“I’ll do my best,” he said. Suddenly Dean felt fuller than he ever had before. He moaned lavishly, rocking himself back onto Cas’s cock. Cas ran his hand ran up his side, caressing Dean’s body reverently. “How’d I get so lucky?” he asked, licking his way into Dean’s mouth before he could think of an answer. Cas took Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth, dragging it out and making Dean moan. He then kissed away the damage, caressing Dean’s face with the hand that wasn’t holding Dean’s own. 

“I consider myself pretty lucky to have you, too, you know,” Dean said, his lips brushing against Cas’s. Cas grinned against Dean’s lips, pressing them together again. Dean felt his orgasm building inside of him with every thrust. “Oh god, I’m close,” Dean panted.

“Me too,” Cas murmured into his lips. He began thrusting faster, with less of a rhythm. 

“Oh my god,” Dean whined, bucking into Cas, practically riding him as he swiveled his hips. He moaned a litany of nonsense that mingled with Cas’s groans and pants, his hips bucking up off the bed. Cas gripped Dean’s hips in his free hand again, their hands tightening around one another. He thrust further, stilling as he spilled into Dean. Dean let out a cry, coming over himself as a sensation that surpassed the phrase “orgasmic” coursed through him. He felt all at once whole and beyond satiated, his chest heaving as he collapsed into the pillows and blankets. Cas pulled out of him and he let his legs fall to the bed as Cas crawled up next to him, taking Dean into his arms. 

“I really hope I’m not gonna have to walk anywhere tomorrow,” Dean joked. He went to wipe off his stomach, but he found the come was gone. He also didn’t feel any dripping out of his hole. “Huh, more perks?” he asked, grinning at Cas. The latter simply smirked back and kissed him again.

“Cleanup is a useless annoyance,” he explained. Dean just grinned and shook his head, settling into Cas’s arms and tangling their legs together. He sighed, a pleasant sensation pulsing quietly through him. Cas’s grace engulfed him, and he found himself smiling giddily. He thought maybe the excitement of the energy he felt should have faded with the mystery of its source, but knowing that it was Cas’s grace made it that much more beautiful to him. He loved knowing they had a connection that no one else could feel. It made him feel secure, like he belonged. Not to Cas, and not like he was obliged to be with Cas without choice, but like he’d finally found what he’d been needing all along. He pressed a smiling kiss to Cas’s sweat-sheened collarbone. 

“How are you doing?” Cas asked. Dean was ready to laugh and crack a joke about Cas’s celestial dick (or something along those lines), but he then realized he meant after passing out and learning the truth about his childhood traumas. He thought it over for a moment.

“I’m happy,” he said finally. “You make me happy,” he added. Cas kissed the top of his head. “I mean, it’s a lot to take in, and I guess I’m a little stunned and overwhelmed by it all… but right now I’m just happy to have what I have. I’m glad my mom and my brother are alive, I’m glad all of my friends are safe…” He looked up at Cas then as he finished, “And I’m glad I can be here with you.” Cas smiled, kissing Dean’s forehead. 

“I’m so happy I found you,” Cas murmured into Dean’s hair. Dean let the weight of that statement sink in; Cas had been around since probably the beginning of time, had seen endless amounts of different universes, studied every crevice of Earth, and he found Dean. And they fell for each other. It was pretty crazy to think about. “Every struggle I’ve had, every minute down here has been worth it because of you.” 

“I don’t know what I did to make you like me so much, but I’m sure glad I did it,” he replied. Then, with a smirk , he joked, “Maybe I should thank my mom.” Cas chuckled then.

“You probably should. I should also probably call her to tell her you’re awake.” Dean nodded in agreement. Cas then had the phone to his ear without even moving to get it from the table or dialing a number. 

“Is that something you do a lot when you’re alone?” Dean asked, very amused with how lazy his boyfriend’s powers allowed him to be. Cas shrugged with a grin. 

“Mary?” Cas said then. “I’m so sorry to call you at this hour, but I thought you’d want to know as soon as Dean woke up.” Dean rolled his eyes. Yeah, you really called her as soon as I woke up, he projected at Cas sarcastically. His eyebrows rose when Cas shot him a look and mouthed “I heard that.” Then, to Mary, “Yes, he seems to be fine… Yes, he’s still awake, would you like to speak with him?” He handed Dean the phone then. 

“Hey mom,” Dean spoke, sitting up and hoping he didn’t sound too much like he’d just had life changing sex. 

“Oh, Dean, honey, I’m so glad you’re all right,” his mother gushed into the phone, not a note of fatigue in her voice. “How are you feeling? Are you drinking water? Have you had anything to eat?”

“I feel great,” Dean assured her, sharing a clandestine smirk with Cas over the multiple meanings and reasons behind the truth of that statement. “And Cas made sure to get me water and organic produce to eat as soon as I woke up.” 

“I’m glad,” Mary sighed. “So you’re all set then? I trust that Cas is taking amazing care of you, but don’t hesitate to call me at any time if there’s something I can do, okay?”

“Will do, thanks mom,” he grinned. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied. “You should probably call Sam and Jess as well. I was sort of venting my worries to them, so they’re wanting to hear from you.”

“You didn’t tell them about Cas, did you?” he asked, worry climbing up his throat. He’d told them about him dating Cas about a week after they’d made it official, but he didn’t really need more people freaking out about the fact that he was dating a god. 

“If you’re asking if I told your brother and his wife that your boyfriend is a god, then no, but I did tell them he was watching over you and that they could trust you were safe in his care.” Dean let out a small breath of relief. 

“Thanks mom, I’ll call them now,” he promised.

“Good, they’ll be happy to hear from you. I’m gonna try to get some sleep now that I know you’re okay, but you and Castiel know that it’s okay to wake me up if you need anything at all.”

“Yeah mom, got it. Again, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby. I love you.” Dean smiled softly.

“Love you too. Night.”

“Goodnight, sweetie.” He hung up then, handing the phone back to Cas. 

“I’ve gotta call Sam and Jess,” he said, running his fingers through his hair and sitting forward on his knees. “I think I’m gonna pee first, though.”

“That’s a good idea,” Cas agreed. “And you should really drink some more of that water and finish your banana,” he added as Dean got up from the bed. Dean waved his hand at him as he made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

He looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look any different, really, but there was a light in his eyes that he didn’t think had been there before, and color in his cheeks. These were changes that could be credited to the sex he’d just had, but he felt different inside. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but he felt... rejuvenated. 

He returned to the bed, accepting the glass of water Cas handed him and chugging it gratefully. He saw that it was then 2:47, which meant it was 12:47 in Palo Alto. He shrugged, figuring Sam should be worried enough to pick up. He called him holding the phone to his ear as he tried to finish the banana.

“Dean?” Sam answered, clearly having just awoken but alert nonetheless. 

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean greeted him through a mouth full of banana. “Mom told me I should call you and let you know I’m okay.”

“Yeah, we were worried. Thanks for calling. I mean, it kinds sucks that you woke up when it’s almost one in the morning here,” he teased, “but I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Is that Dean?” he could hear Jess asking on the other line. “Is he alright? Can I talk to him?”

“I think Jess wants to talk to you,” Sam laughed, handing the phone over to his wife.

“Dean, what the hell happened?” she demanded as soon as the phone was in her hand. “Are you alright? Did you hit your head? You should really be drinking water.”

“Evening, Jessica,” Dean greeted her. “Hey, what is it with nurses and water? You and my mom, I swear to god. It’s always ‘water, water, water’,” he remarked. 

“Well I apologize for wanting to make sure you’re hydrated after you passed out and apparently didn’t wake up for… fifteen hours,” she replied. “I guess you’re fine though, you seem to be your asshole self,” she joked fondly. Dean grinned; he really liked Jess. She was the perfect balance for Sam – smart and witty enough to match his own intellect, and she reminded him to let loose from time to time do he didn’t kill himself with work. 

“I really am feeling fine,” he assured her. “Cas is even getting me to eat my fruits and veggies.”

“Oh, so you’re dating a miracle worker now? Or does he just have a really nice dick?” Dean blurted out a laugh at the affronted expression on Cas’s face.

“He heard that,” he let her know. “And both, I think. His dick is a miracle in and of itself.”

“Dean, you’re gross,” he heard Sam call through Jess’s laughter.

“Why are you discussing my genitals with your sister-in-law?” Cas asked, mainly confused but also seemingly a bit embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologized, holding the phone away as he kissed Cas. Then, returning the phone to his ear, he said, “Jess just likes to know these things because she’s a pervert with an unsatisfying sex life.” Jess just laughed on the other end of the line, and Dean could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes. 

“Well, he makes money, so I can’t complain,” she joked back. “But for real though, you’re okay? No dizziness or pain or anything?”

“Nope, none of that. I feel amazing – cleansed, even,” he promised.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. Now say goodnight to your brother and let us get some sleep,” she said. 

“Night, Jess. Stay feisty, keep Sam on his toes.”

“Night, Dean. Stay an asshole. Don’t die, and don’t make your boyfriend suffer too much,” she replied, making an obnoxious kiss noise into the phone before handing it to Sam.

“Hey man, really, thanks for calling. Keep me updated on your health and the storm damage and everything, all right?” Sam said.

“Will do,” Dean assured him. “Talk to you soon. Night.”

“Later,” he replied before hanging up the phone. 

Dean tossed it next to his pillow before getting under the covers and cuddling up to Cas; he was exhausted. Sam’s request lingered in his mind – he hadn’t even asked Cas about the damage yet. “Cas?” he asked. “How much damage did the storm do?” Cas sighed.

“Quite a bit,” he answered. “Jo and Matt’s home was damaged rather severely, so they’re staying with Aaron. Mary’s home suffered a few hits, but nothing too bad. Just some broken windows that Charlie and Dorothy helped clean up, and that Bobby and Ellen agreed to help her replace. Your apartment also has a few broken windows, but Bobby boarded them up and swept up the glass. We got lucky as a lot, however I can’t say the same for the city.” Dean nodded solemnly.

“Cas?” he asked. He hummed in response. “Are they gonna come for you?”

“They might,” he answered truthfully. Dean knew they would also come for everyone else on Earth.

“What are we gonna do?” he asked quietly, his voice trembling almost imperceptibly. 

“I’m not quite sure yet,” Cas answered. “But I plan on fighting back.”


	11. Chapter 11

Dean had wanted to ask more about Cas’s supposed plan to fight back against an army of gods, but he was far too worn out to have that conversation. Besides, he had a feeling Cas didn’t even really have much of a plan at all. So after Cas’s dramatic declaration of war, Dean had kissed him goodnight and shut his eyes, allowing Cas to organize his thoughts while he rested. 

He woke up to Cas’s fingers carding through his hair. “Mornin’,” Dean mumbled, shoving his face farther into Cas’s neck. The latter chuckled. “Sleep well?” he teased.

“I didn’t rest much,” Cas admitted. Dean groaned, remembering all that had happened and all that Cas had told him the night before. 

“Busy mapping out a battle strategy?” he asked, detaching himself from Cas and stretching a bit. Cas chuckled lightly.

“I did a bit of that,” he answered, pulling Dean in for a kiss. “Mainly I watched over you, made sure you were all right.” He narrowed his eyes then. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Peachy,” Dean grinned. And he found that he actually sort of meant it – he was a little groggy, but surprisingly less so than usual. Then again, he’d slept for fourteen straight hours the day before, which could explain it. “Little hungry though,” he confessed, sitting up and rolling his neck. “Think you could mojo up a bacon, egg, and cheese?” Cas rolled his eyes. Dean pouted in response.

“Unfortunately, being a god does not make me a better cook,” he told him. “However, I can ‘mojo’ on some clothes and go get you something from the bagel shop.” Dean beamed at him, planting a kiss on his lips.

“You’re the best immortal boyfriend anyone could have,” he said. Cas rolled his eyes again, but he wasn’t doing much to hide his grin. 

“I’ll be back shortly,” he said, climbing out of bed. He then leaned into kiss Dean, fully clothed despite the fact that he’d been in his pajamas just a moment before. “Don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone.” Dean just winked at him and caught a grin before Cas disappeared out of thin air.

He had to admit, it was pretty jarring – it made him feel like he as hallucinating for a minute, and he missed watching Cas leave. But the whole dating-a-god thing was not without its perks. However, then there was the whole gods-wanting-to-obliterate-the-human-race thing to worry about…

Dean sighed and checked his phone. He was pleased to see that it was only a little past 7:30, and even more pleased to see a text from Bobby telling him that he’d been filled in about Dean’s fainting spell, and that he had the day off to rest. He figured he should probably text him, as well as Charlie and Jo and everybody, to let everyone know he was okay. 

By the time Cas got back, Dean was seated at the kitchen table with his coffee in hand, texting Charlie about how everyone was holding up. He placed the brown paper bag on the table and sat down, pulling his own untoasted whole wheat bagel with cream cheese out. Dean rolled his eyes fondly as he retrieved his bacon, hash brown, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel of the bag. He never thought he’d find himself smiling about something as trivial as bagel orders, but the fact that both Dean and Cas knew what the other one wanted without having to ask gave Dean an inexplicable sense of happiness. It was domestic, in a way, and Dean found that he sort of craved that. 

Of course, the possible end of the world came before domesticity. 

“So, have you thought of a badass plan to save the world yet?” he asked, taking a bite out of his sandwich. Cas fidgeted.

“Nothing that’s very reasonable,” he muttered, biting into his breakfast. 

“Hey, no bad ideas here,” Dean said. “If you have something, share with the group.” Cas shot him a look. Dean just grinned encouragingly. Cas sighed.

“I was thinking… well, we clearly don’t have enough manpower,” he began. “Their group was gaining numbers when I fell, and I suspect their ranks are much vaster by now. I had many allies before my fall, but I don’t know how many have turned, or how many would even want to be involved with me at all after all I’ve done.”

“You say that like saving me and my mom’s lives was a bad thing,” Dean spoke softly, reaching out for Cas’s hand. The latter took the offer, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand and smiling sadly into his eyes.

“In the eyes of my brethren, it is,” he explained. They maintained eye contact for a few silent, prolonged moments, a tacit understanding passing between them. 

“All right,” Dean finally spoke, breaking the silence, “so we don’t have an army, that’s obvious. What’s the plan then?”

“It’s a bit crazy… but I want to try to find my father,” Cas revealed. “He was always very against intervention, so I can’t imagine he approves of this.”

“Great!” Dean exclaimed. “We find your dad, tell on the other kids, they get put in a celestial time out, the human race gets to live on.” Cas gave a small, unenthused smile.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” he replied. “Very few have personally met with my father. I do know someone who was close to him, but like I said, I’m not sure how willing my former contacts would be to help me.” 

“There’s gotta be someone who’ll help you,” Dean reasoned. “I mean come on, who can resist those eyes?” he joked, kissing his boyfriend’s knuckles. Cas rolled his eyes, grinning bashfully.

“Unfortunately, puppy dog eyes don’t usually work on gods.”

“Rats.” Dean shook his head. “So, wait, if you plan on looking for your dad, does that mean you have to go back to, like, heaven or Mount Olympus or whatever?” he asked. Cas laughed lightly then. “Can you even go back?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Like I said, the whole plan is rather insane and quite likely not even possible.” 

“Well, that’s no reason not to try,” Dean replied. “Can humans go there?”

“Excuse me?” Cas said incredulously. 

“To your plane or whatever. Can I go?” Cas stared at him like he’d just told him he was Abraham Lincoln. “You don’t think I’m gonna let you go on this voyage by yourself, do you?”

“Dean, of course I’m doing this alone,” Cas asserted. “You’ve hurt enough because of me. This is dangerous enough for me alone, let alone trying to bring you along.”

“I haven’t gotten hurt at all because of you!” Dean argued, removing his hand from Cas’s. “And I’m sure as hell not gonna just sit on my ass waiting here like housewife of a soldier off to war while you go risk your life.”

“Dean, it’s too dangerous. I care far too much about you to put you in that sort of peril.”

“Can’t you see how much I care about you? I mean, Jesus Christ, Cas, how am I even supposed to know how long you’ll be gone? How am I supposed to contact you? Am I supposed to pray to you for however long you’ll be gone? If you really cared so much you wouldn’t make me wait here worrying about you, never knowing whether you’re alive or not. I can’t live like that, Cas!”

“Dean, you’re being unreasonable,” Cas gritted through clenched teeth. “I understand that you worry about me, but I will be fine. Bringing you along would be a terrible idea for a plethora of different reasons.”

“Why is it such a bad thing that I wanna be with you?” Dean asked. “I wanna be there for you, make sure you’re safe.”

“It won’t end well if you come. It’s an insane idea.”

“It’s a great idea!” Dean all but shouted. “Why don’t you want me there with you? I could help!”

“Dammit, Dean, I said no!” Cas roared. Dean coiled back slightly; he’d never heard Cas raise his voice like that, and it did a good job of reminding Dean how powerful a creature Cas really was. “You think I don’t want you with me? Dean, I don’t want to leave you, but if I’m going back there, I have to. As it is, I don’t know if any of my old allies will trust me, and you think bringing along the very human I fell for is going to help me gain back their trust?” Dean’s anger and frustration drained almost completely. Cas narrowed his eyes at him. “What?” he demanded. 

“What do you mean ‘the human you fell for’?” Dean asked quietly. The look of confusion on Cas’s face soon faded into a look of realization as his eyes widened. 

“Well, I mean, I fell because I wanted to be with humanity, and then I grew very close to you, so really-”

“Cut the crap, Cas,” Dean said, cutting off his boyfriends rambling. Cas sighed. Dean hated that he was getting used to the sound. 

“All right, so I wasn’t completely honest about why I fell,” he confessed. “Ever since you were born I was amazed by the purity and beauty of your soul. I felt somewhat protective over you, and that feeling grew exponentially after I healed you; it was irrevocable. I tried to stay in my place, but I yearned for the human experience, and a part of me yearned to talk to you, not just check in with you occasionally.” He wasn’t meeting Dean’s eye, which was understandable, but Dean didn’t feel offended or creeped out in the slightest. “I wanted to meet you, to get to know you. I’d always marveled at humanity, I’d always wanted to interact with humans, but it was you who pushed me over the edge, I think. Eventually it was all too much, and I guess I just sort of went, ‘fuck it’.” They both chuckled then. “And you were even more magnificent in person,” Cas praised, finally meeting Dean’s gaze.

“Then why’d you leave?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

“It wasn’t the right time,” Cas explained. “You were so young, and I had yet to get my footing – everything was so foreign to me. We both needed time before anything could properly transpire between us.” Dean nodded. He knew that Cas was right. 

“All right, so I know you don’t want me to come,” he said, getting but on track, “but is it possible for a human to enter your magic fairy realm?” Cas gave him a wary look.

“There have been stories,” he admitted, “but I don’t know if it’s ever really been done.”

“But it’s possible?” Dean asked. 

“It’s not a process that I think you would be very into.”

“So you know how?”

“Yes,” Cas stated. “And like I said, I don’t think you would like it very much.”

“Try me,” Dean challenged, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

“Dean, you could get hurt,” Cas repeated.

“I don’t care about that,” Dean replied.

“Well I do,” Cas argued. “Dean, please, listen to me.” Dean nodded, signaling him to go on. Cas’s gaze softened, and he took a minute to just look at Dean before taking a breath. “Dean, I love you,” he said. 

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He’d been thinking about that word – love – a lot before Cas had told him about what he was, and even through the haze and confusion of the days following Dean didn’t shy away from the word. He found that he wasn’t scared off by hearing Cas saying it, and was mildly surprised because he wasn’t surprised that he was comfortable with it. In fact, the feeling in his chest was extremely pleasant, and he felt a smile splitting his face.

“Yeah, me too,” he said. He knew it wasn’t quite up to par, and he didn’t really know why he couldn’t get himself to say it, but a smile to match his own still bloomed on Cas’s face. They leaned across the table and shared a kiss, grinning into each other’s lips. “Well, that didn’t help your case any – I’m definitely not leaving your side now,” Dean said. “So how about you tell me how to get up there with you?” He sat back in chair but kept his fingers interlocked with Cas’s. Cas wilted, giving into Dean’s requests. 

“It would require you bind your soul to my grace,” he said. Dean’s eyebrows rose, because yeah, that sounded a little intimidating. 

“Okay, well, what would that be like?” he asked, trying to keep an open mind. As intense as a soul-grace-bond seemed, he wasn’t willing to give up on his boyfriend that easily. Cas gave him an incredulous look.

“Irreversible, for one thing,” he replied. All right, a bit scarier, Dean thought to himself. But he nodded for Cas to go on. “I’m not quite sure what it would entail, but we would be connected on a whole other level than-”

“Aren’t we already connected?” Dean interrupted.

“This would be drastically different,” Cas said.

“Would I get powers?” Dean joked excitedly. Cas smiled at him while shaking his head.

“Besides being able to feel what I’m feeling and hear my thoughts, I don’t think so,” he answered. Dean’s eyes widened – mind reading was new.

“Wait, can you read my mind now?” Dean asked.

“If I wanted to,” Cas said. “However, just as I could go through your internet history, or look through your drawers, I choose not to.” Dean let out a breath of relief.

“I know I’ve said this before, but you’re the best magical boyfriend ever,” he grinned. “So more about this eternal god mating ritual thing. Will I be able to turn off your thoughts and stuff like you can now?”

“I would assume so. Nothing is certain with this, though.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I don’t even know why I’m going so in depth, this is not something we’re going through with.”

“Why not?” Dean asked. “It doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

“Dean, by agreeing to this you’re pretty much committing to me for the rest of your life!” Cas exclaimed, standing up from his chair, suddenly overcome with passion and frustration. “Don’t you see that? This makes marriage look trivial! What if you decide someday that you don’t feel the same way about me as you do now?” Dean could feel Cas’s anxiety spilling off of him, he could see it; he was practically trembling. Dean stood up and walked over to him.

“Cas, you don’t need to worry about that,” Dean began putting his arms around Cas’s shoulders. He shook him off, taking a step away.

“Yes, I do!” he shouted back, his voice quivering. “You clearly aren’t listening to me. Do you have any idea how painful it will be to be separated if we go through with this and you find it’s not what you thought?” Dean clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists.

“Do you have any idea how painful it’ll be to be separated if I have to watch you leave?” he shot back. “To not know if you’re ever coming back? To possibly never hear from you again?” Cas’s anger faded slightly. 

“It’s not the same, Dean,” Cas shook his head.

“I’m already in love with you, Cas,” he said, throwing his hands out as his sides and letting his shoulders sag, allowing the words to slip off his tongue freely. “It’s too late to do anything to change that. So I’m gonna do all I can to stay with you.”

“Staying alive would help with that,” Cas argued, “and the best way for you to do that is to stay down here, where you’re safe.” Dean walked forward slowly, not breaking eye contact. Cas didn’t back away.

“I don’t know about you,” he began, his voice breathy and shaking, “but I want this.” He swallowed down the lump in his throat, but it got caught in his chest, where his heart was thrashing violently. Cas was holding his breath, hanging on Dean’s words. “I’ve felt things for other people in the past, but nothing like this.”

The truth weighed heavy on Dean’s tongue, and in his chest. He knew it was true. All his life there’d been a part of him hidden away in the back of his mind that wondered what it was, why nothing was ever enough, how he could be with somebody but know that it wouldn’t last. He’d had his share of relationships, but nothing that ever had any promise. He was always yearning for something else. He felt like he was putting out feelings that weren’t there, or that were hollow, that he didn’t fully mean.

But with Cas, everything was different. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere a hole had been filled. Dean felt things for Cas he was beginning to realize he’d never felt for anyone before. Nothing was half-full, or faked – every feeling was genuine, and they were strong. But there was a subtlety to it all as well, like the comfort of home. Everything just felt right.

“Anything I ever might’ve felt for anyone in the past is nothing compared to what I feel for you,” he professed. “Cas, I don’t think I’m ever gonna feel like this again, for anyone.” Cas just shook his head sadly.

“You don’t know that.” Dean took his hands.

“Maybe I don’t, not one hundred percent,” he replied, “but I am ninety-nine percent positive that I will never want anything more than you. Now, I’m not usually one to dive into things, or rush, but considering the world’s ending I’m sure I can make an exception.” They shared a smile at that sentiment. “I’m also pretty sure the fact that I’m not running screaming is a good sign.” Cas laughed lightly at that. Dean brought one of Cas’s hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “I don’t plan on going anywhere, Cas. And I’m not afraid.” Cas raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really, you’re not afraid?” he asked, clearly not believing him.

“Well, sure, I’m afraid of the world ending, and of the divine border patrol,” he joked. His eyes softened then as he smiled at Cas and said, “But I’m not afraid of being with you.” Cas smiled delicately, like he was scared to accept what Dean had just told him. Dean’s hand caressed his cheek. “If you think you’ll regret this down the line, if you think you won’t want me anymore, then we don’t have to do this. But I want this.”

“Dean,” Cas whispered, leaning his face further into Dean’s hand, “I will always want to be with you.” He punctuated the sentiment with a kiss to Dean’s palm. Dean grinned.

“Then it’s settled,” he declared. “We’re going through with this, and we’re both going up to wherever you call it to find your dad and save the world.” 

 

Cas had explained to Dean that they’d need to go to the tree in the clearing to be further in touch with Cas’s grace in order to form the bond. They would also need it to harness enough energy to make the trip. Cas answered any questions Dean had (and he had a lot), even the stupid ones, such as, “Am I gonna need to pack anything?” “Should I bring a toothbrush?” “Are there bathrooms there?” “Will I not need to sleep like you?” “What about showering?” “How’s the food there?” “Are we just gonna teleport everywhere?” “Are you sure I don’t need to pack anything?”

Most of the answers were either, “No,” “I don’t know,” or “Why are you even asking me that?”

The question that neither of them had an immediate response to was the question of how they were supposed to explain to everyone where they were going. “I’ve invited everyone over for dinner,” Cas told him, “We can tell them then.”

“Tell them what exactly?” Dean asked. “Tell them that we’re taking a vacation to another plane of existence?”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll figure out a way to break the news in a more pleasant manner, but basically, yes,” Cas replied. 

“Great, we’ve got that figured out. But have you figured out what you’re serving for dinner?” he teased. Cas raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“I have, in fact,” he answered complacently. “I bought steak and potatoes.”

“Which I suppose I’m cooking?” Dean guessed with a grin, taking a sip of his beer. Cas grinned and pressed forward against Dean, effectively trapping him against the counter. He took Dean’s beer and set it on the counter, capturing his now free lips with his own. He hummed into the kiss.

“Yes, because you love me,” he beamed. Dean made a small, contented noise of agreement. “I’ll peel the potatoes.”

So they worked side by side, though Cas finished his task quite quickly and moved onto setting the dining room table.

“You know, I’ve never eaten at this table before,” he called from the other room. “I’m very excited to be able to put it to good use.” Dean grinned at his excitement, but there was still a subtle churning in his stomach. He and Cas were planning on leaving the next day, and if things didn’t go well, there was a very good chance that the dinner would be his last with his friends and family.

He did his best to shake away his fear, reminding himself that if he didn’t help Cas do this, the entire human population would die, his friends and family included. 

He caught Cas checking his phone and grinning when he turned away from the steak for a moment. “What are you smiling about?” Dean asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Cas answered innocently. “I’m just texting with your mother.” Dean shook his head and turned back to his cooking; he supposed it was a good thing his boyfriend and his mom got along so well. “The table is all set by the way,” he informed him, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “They should be here soon.” Cas kissed his neck and Dean melted back into his embrace. 

The doorbell rang about a minute later, and Cas detached himself from Dean, straightening up in excitement. “What’s with the grin?” Dean asked.

“I have a surprise for you,” Cas told him, smirking as he backed out of the room. Dean squinted at him suspiciously, but shook his head and began covering the food in tin foil so it didn’t get cold. He heard the door open, and he heard murmured voices, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying or who they were. He then heard heavy footsteps coming toward the kitchen.

“Hey there, stranger,” a familiar voice called. Dean turned to see a very pregnant Jess in the doorway of the kitchen, Sam standing behind her.

“Sam? Jess?” he replied, a smile growing on his face. “What are you doing here?” he asked, bringing Jess into his arms.

“Mary and Castiel invited us over,” Sam explained as he hugged his brother. 

“Yeah, we were really worried about you, so we all agreed it would be a good idea for us to come out and see you,” Jess added. Cas and Mary stepped into the small area then as well.

“Where’s Lizzie?” Dean asked, wondering why his niece wasn’t plastered to one of her parents’ sides like usual.

“Well, it was a really sudden trip,” Sam said, “so we left her back in California with Brady.” Dean shook his head and crossed his arms.

“I was disappointed, too,” Mary chimed in, shaking her head at the couple. 

“Next time,” Jess promised with a wink.

“And next time there’ll be two little ones to fuss over,” Mary gushed. “Castiel, honey, you wouldn’t mind if I took Jessica into the living room, would you? Poor thing really shouldn’t be on her feet.” Jess began to protest, but Cas cut in before she could.

“Of course!” he agreed. “Do you guys need anything? Water, tea, coffee?” he asked then, seemingly a bit flustered. Dean smirked; Cas was cute when he was nervous. 

“Water would be great sweetie, but I’m sure Dean can get that,” Mary replied. Then, pointedly to Dean, “Right, Dean?”

“It’ll be out in a sec,” he promised as Mary and Sam escorted Jess to the couch in the other room. 

Dean turned to Cas then, trapping him against the counter as he pressed a grinning kiss to his lips. “Thanks for this, Cas,” he whispered. “Really, there aren’t words-”

“So you’re happy then?” Cas grinned.

“Would’ve been happier if they’d brought me my niece,” he teased, “but yeah, this is great.” He kissed the corner of his lips. “You seem a little nervous, though. Scared to meet my family?” he joked. Cas raised an eyebrow.

“Not as scared as you’ll be when meeting mine,” he retorted.

“Touché,” Dean grinned, kissing Cas again languidly. 

“I thought you were getting us water, Dean,” Sam’s teasing voice came from the doorway. The two jumped apart. A blush rose to both of their cheeks, but Dean just rolled his eyes.

“I am, I am,” he replied, grabbing glasses from the cabinet. “So you guys met then I guess?” he said, nodding between his brother and his boyfriend. Sam nodded.

“Well, at the door a minute ago,” Cas said, retrieving the water pitcher from the fridge. He poured two glasses before the doorbell rang. “I’ll get that,” he said, kissing Dean on the cheek and exiting the kitchen with Mary and Jess’s waters in hand. 

“So, you two seem happy,” Sam commented as Dean poured him a glass of water. He smiled to himself.

“Yeah,” he replied simply, handing his brother the water. 

“You know, Jess and I know that he’s a… god,” Sam told him in a low voice. Dean raised his eyebrows – that was news to him. “He and mom told us this morning when you were asleep. And we also know about the world ending, and everything.”

“Well, you seem to be taking it well,” he commented. 

“Yeah. I mean it’s pretty crazy, and we’ve yet to see proof, but if you, he, and mom say so… we’ve got no reason not to believe you.”

“You can see proof later, just don’t let him teleport Jess,” Dean said, half joking. “Who knows what that kind of mojo could do to a pregnant lady?” 

“Sam Winchester,” Jo’s accusing voice came from down the hall. “You did not tell me you were coming to town.”

“Yeah, he didn’t tell me either,” Dean cut in as Jo and Matt squeezed into the kitchen.

“How ya doing, Jo?” Sam chuckled as he pulled her into a hug. “Good to see ya, man,” he said to Matt, bringing him into a hug as well.

“We’ve been good,” Jo answered. She turned to Dean then. “You gonna pour me and my fiancé here some water or not?” she teased. Dean rolled his eyes at her, but poured the two waters anyway. 

Dean heard Aaron, Charlie, and Dorothy come in then and decided to help Cas with the hosting – he figured his mom and his pregnant sister-in-law were enough as it was. He handed Jo and Matt their waters and left them to talk to Sam in the kitchen while he headed for the living room. Aaron, Charlie, and Dorothy were hugging Cas and Mary and maneuvering themselves around Jess’s baby bump when he got there, and he was more than happy to see them getting along so well with Cas. Dean’s whole family – blood or not – getting along with his boyfriend was blessing enough – the fact that they were just as accepting as ever considering the circumstances seemed like an outright miracle.

“Is everyone here?” Dean asked Cas, sliding an arm around his waist.

“Yep, this is everyone,” Cas confirmed. “Should I usher everyone into the dining room or get the food?”

“Get Sam to help you with the food, I’ll do the ushering,” Dean replied, kissing Cas’s temple. Cas smiled and went off to the kitchen. “All right everybody, follow me to the dining room,” Dean called to the residence, helping Jess to her feet. “Just follow the pregnant lady,” he directed, leading everyone into the dining room. He took the head of the table and sat Jess to his right. Cas and Sam carried all of the food out and set it down on the table as everyone took their seats. Cas sat to Dean’s left, Sam to Jess’s right. Mary sat beside Cas.

“So, when are you due?” Aaron asked Jess from the other head of the table. She shot him a confused look.

“What do you mean?” Jess asked. Dean smirked covertly at his plate, quickly catching onto what Jess was doing as Aaron’s face fell slightly.

“The baby,” he clarified. “When’s it coming?” Jess’s face fell into an affronted, stony expression. 

“I’m not actually pregnant,” she stated baldly. Dean marveled at how bitchy she could make herself seem. Aaron’s face dropped entirely.

“Oh my god, I-I’m so sorry,” Aaron rambled. Jess’s expression didn’t falter, and Dean had to cover his mouth to contain his laughter. Sam rolled his eyes.

“She’s kidding,” he said, relieving Aaron of his suffering. Jess and Dean met each other’s eyes and let out their laughter. 

“Dude, you should’ve seen your face,” he told Aaron through his giggles. The latter rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, just serve the steak, would ya?” he replied, his cheeks still vibrantly pink. Dean rolled his eyes but stood to cut the steak anyway. He handed the potatoes to Jess. 

“Pregnant ladies first,” he said. “Take some and pass it on. Emphasis on the some, not all of it,” he teased with a wink. Jess stuck her tongue out at him, a gesture which he just as quickly reciprocated. 

Dean sat once everyone’s plates and glasses were full and joined in the eating that had already commenced. The dinner began with casual conversation – questions about Jess’s baby, mainly – but eventually there was a lull in the dialogue. 

“Hey, not to be a downer,” Charlie began, “but is this like a ‘Hey the World’s Ending Let’s Celebrate While We Can’ kind of dinner?” Dean and Cas shared a knowing look, taking each other’s hands. 

“Actually, it’s a ‘We’re Not Gonna Let the World End’ dinner,” Dean replied. There were shared looks of uncertainty around the table, which really didn’t help Dean keep up his front of bravado. 

“No offense,” Jo started timidly, “but… how? I mean, I’ll help however I can, but we’re really not much against an army of angry gods.” Forks scraped against plates in the following silence, an uncomfortable and tacit agreement.

“We’re not fighting, exactly,” Cas cut in. “I can do what I can to fend off the attacks, but as you’ve seen, that’s not much, considering the current situation. I’m fairly useless on Earth in such a restricted form, so I’ve decided to go back to… well, Heaven, I suppose, whatever you want to call it. The real name is untranslatable and frankly-” Dean cleared his throat, cutting off Cas’s rambling. “Right,” Cas said, “well, anyway, Dean and I are going back, and we plan to find my father and get him to stop this. At this point, he may be the only one strong enough.”

“Your father?” Dorothy asked. “As in, like, the God of all gods?”

“Well, his proper name is the Creator,” Cas told her, “but that seemed like a bit of a dramatic way to address him.” 

“Wait, so humans can just like… go to your home base?” Charlie asked. Cas looked to Dean, and unsure expression on his face.

“We found a loophole,” Dean answered.

“What kind of loophole?” Mary asked, equal parts suspicious and concerned. 

“A safe one,” Cas assured her in a calm, even voice. “We should both be fine, and we’ll be able to return shortly after if all goes well.” 

Dean was the only one who knew he was lying.


	12. Chapter 12

The group accepted Cas’s promise of safety, and they eventually moved on after a few uncomfortable moments of dense silence. Dean credited their lack of further questioning to fear of the details of what Dean and Cas’s trip would really entail.

Cas had also apparently purchased mini éclairs, which were shared after dinner. Friendly conversation was made, but eventually the elephant in the room raised more questions.

“So when are you leaving?” Charlie asked first. Dean and Cas shared a slightly guilty look.

“Tomorrow,” Dean answered eventually, the statement blunt and a bit harsh. He popped an éclair into his mouth. He tried not to look at the horrified expressions that adorned the faces of their loved ones.

“Tomorrow?” Jo asked incredulously. Dean nodded, unable to make himself truly look into the eyes of the people whose hearts he’d most likely just broken.

Once again, Cas took the reins and assumed the position of responsibility. “We really don’t have time to wait,” he explained. “But we’ve talked about it, and we have everything planned out. We’ll be back before you know it.” More lies.

“Have you told Bobby this?” Jo asked. “Or my mom? Or am I gonna have to explain why you’re taking so much time off work?” Dean shrugged, though his heart was in his stomach; Bobby and Ellen didn’t even know about any of the supernatural shit that was going down.

“You can tell ‘em if Cas is cool with it,” he replied. “Or you could just tell them Cas and I eloped and went on impromptu honeymoon and don’t know when we’ll be back.” Cas rolled his eyes, and Jo shot Dean a look.

“I’m fine with you telling them however much you want,” Cas chimed in. Jo snorted.

“Yeah, that’ll go well,” she muttered.

“Listen,” Dean began, preaching to everyone, “we’re leaving tomorrow. We’re gonna find Cas’s dad, and we’re gonna be fine. We don’t know when we’ll be back, but it’ll be soon enough. You don’t need to worry, all right?”

His proclamation was followed by silent nods. Jess looked at him with sympathy and quickly swooped in with a new conversational topic. Dean sat back and took Cas’s hand. He was exhausted and just wanted to fall asleep with his boyfriend wrapped around him, but he reminded himself that he may be spending time with his family and friends for the last time ever. And that made him appreciate the company a whole lot more.

Mary was the first to retire, but she made Dean and Cas promise to come to breakfast at her house with Sam and Jess the next morning. Sam and Jess left soon after, explaining that pregnancy and last minute travelling can be quite tiring. Jo and Matt left with Aaron, all of whom gave Dean and Cas noticeably prolonged hugs. Dean felt his guilt and their pain twisting like a vice around his heart.

Charlie and Dorothy hung around a bit longer and helped with the cleanup, despite Cas’s protests.

Charlie was helping Dean wash dishes (since apparently Cas spent all of his money on a bunker and didn’t leave any money for a dishwasher) when the silence finally got to him. He couldn’t stand how palpable the discomfort was between him and his best friend.

“We’ll be all right, you know,” he muttered, passing her a dish to dry. She nodded solemnly, pausing for a second.

“Will you, though?” she asked. “I mean, how can you have any idea what’s gonna happen? How can a human even go to Mount Olympus?”

“I told you, we found a loophole,” Dean replied, scrubbing a plate harder than he probably needed to.

“That’s a really scary term,” Charlie said. “You know that, right?” Dean gave a noncommittal grunt in response. Charlie shot him a look. “Tell me how you’re gonna do it.” It was sort of a demand, and in a tone that only Charlie and his mom could pull off with him. Dean handed her the plate, not looking at her as he moved on to a cup.

“Some soul-grace meld thing,” he said. “It’s hard to explain, but it’ll work and we’ll both be safe.”

“You keep saying that,” Charlie remarked. “Are you trying to reassure me, or yourself?” Dean finally met her eyes then, allowing his fear to shine through as he looked to his best friend for what he knew might be one of the last times.

“Both.”

He held her tight when they hugged goodbye that night, kissing the top of her head. “Love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” she replied, holding back tears.

 

 

Dean lay on his back that night, staring at the ceiling while Cas stared at him, tracing shapes on Dean’s chest with his finger. “You don’t have to come with me, you know,” he whispered into Dean’s shoulder. “There’s still time to change your mind. This isn’t your fight.”

“If they’re gonna hurt you, it’s my fight,” Dean replied. “I’m coming with you. I’m just…” he trailed off, trying to take a deep breath and finding he couldn’t quite fill his lungs. He took his boyfriend’s hand in his own, holding them to his chest. “I’m just scared,” he admitted. He lolled his head to the side, meeting Cas’s eyes. “Are we gonna be okay?” he asked, his voice small and vulnerable in the silence of their darkened bedroom.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Cas said, his voice earnest and eyes blazing with intensity as they pierced Dean’s. “I will do whatever I have to in order to protect you.” Dean gave a small smile. Cas kissed him then, pulling him closer.

“Is it gonna hurt?” Dean asked. “The soul-grace meld thing, I mean.”

“I don’t think so,” Cas said, kissing the top of Dean’s head. “I think it will feel better than anything either of us have ever experienced, actually,” he said quietly. Dean smiled.

“Let’s hope so.”

 

They decided having breakfast with Mary, Sam, and Jess would come before binding themselves to each other spiritually for all of eternity, as they had no clue what side effects the process might trigger. Mary had made pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, and everything was set out by the time Dean and Cas arrived at nine.

The meal wasn’t as painful as Dean had been anticipating – the conversation was bright and cheery as Sam and Jess got to know Cas better, and vice versa. Dean was elated to see them getting along so well.

It was the goodbyes that hurt.

Dean hadn’t wanted to say goodbye, but he figured that by the time it passed noon they were only prolonging the inevitable, and it was getting tiresome. So he was the first to stand and say, “Cas and I should probably get going.”

“Already?” Sam asked, his eyes begging Dean not to go. Mary and Jess were clearly trying to keep themselves from asking similar questions. “Don’t you have a little more time?”

“The world needs saving, Sammy,” Dean replied loudly, faking a confident grin. Sam didn’t look convinced – he was just sad and exasperated. “Don’t look at me like that, we’ll be fine, all right?” Sam stood then, nodding as he looked at his brother. He then took him into his arms, hugging him harder than he did the first time he saw him after Dean’s brief hiatus in his 20’s. Dean squeezed him back just as hard, telling himself it would not be the last time he hugged his little brother.

Jess was next, and Dean was more careful with her, but the emotion was just as strong. “Please be okay,” she whispered in his ear. “I understand why you’re doing this, and I respect your decision, but you have to come back to us, okay?” Dean just nodded and kissed her cheek, stroking her hair as he pulled back. They shared weak smiles, Jess’s eyes watering a bit.

“You’re not gonna cry on me, are you?” he teased, but his own voice was choked and raspy. Jess rolled her eyes.

“Shut up, I’m pregnant,” she retorted. Her smile faded a bit then as she gazed seriously at her brother-in-law. “And I love you.” Dean melted a bit inside – he and Jess were more prone to teasing each other and joking around, so when it came to emotional confessions between them it meant even more.

“I love you, too,” he nodded.

He could barely get himself to look at his mom until she cupped his face in her hand. Her eyes were two liquid skies gazing up at him, her lips smiling despite the sadness written across her face. “Oh, Dean,” she whispered, pulling him into an embrace. He stared over her shoulder, holding tight to her as tears filled his eyes. He inhaled discreetly, trying to memorize the smell of her, the smell of home. He didn’t want to leave the sanctuary of his mother’s arms. “Please be safe,” she whispered. “Come back to me.”

“I will,” he assured her, his voice breaking as a stray tear fell down his face. “I promise.”

“I love you so much,” Mary whispered, clearly crying. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, holding her tighter.

“I love you, too,” he said, letting go a moment later. They both wiped their eyes, smiling bravely at each other. Dean stepped back to let Cas say goodbye to her.

“You take good care of him, you hear me?” Mary told him as they embraced, sharing a smile. “And take care of yourself.” Cas nodded curtly.

“I won’t let anything happen to him,” he swore. Mary smiled at him, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Love you, Castiel,” she said. A new warmth bloomed in Dean’s chest – hearing his mother say that to someone as special to him as Cas meant the world to him.

“I love you too, Mary,” Cas replied, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. “Be well.”

“I will,” she said. “So, this is goodbye?” she asked. Cas stepped back and took Dean’s hand, the two of them sharing a look before looking back to Dean’s family and nodding.

“We’ll see you guys soon,” Dean smiled. “Love you guys.” The sentiment was returned and Dean turned around, taking Cas with him. They waved as they left, closing the door behind them. Dean crushed Cas’s hand in his own as they walked down the path and past the Impala.

Dean paused to stroke her sleek black coat. “I’ll see you soon, baby,” he murmured to her. “Be good.”

And then they were making their way through the streets and backyards, their feet padding along the overgrown underbrush of the path. “How are you feeling?” Cas asked, his thumb stroking the skin of Dean’s hand.

“Nervous as fuck,” Dean admitted, giving a small, humorless laugh.

“I’m a little nervous myself,” Cas replied. “But I will do whatever I need to for you.” Dean grinned at him, surprised to find he didn’t have the urge to roll his eyes.

“I really love you,” he said simply. Cas smiled at him as they walked on. The pull was getting stronger, and the combination of being with Cas and nearing the tree was increasingly overwhelming.

Though it had been years and the scenery had changed, Dean had visited the clearing enough to know when they were upon it. He was about to announce the were there, but Cas jolted to a stop. “It’s here,” he said quietly, beating Dean to the announcement as his grip on his hand tightened. Noticing that his boyfriend seemed to be frozen in place, Dean gently led them both through the flora into the clearing.

Cas’s mouth dropped open as they emerged into the meadow and the tree came into view, august as ever where it stood in the center of the circle of grass. The September sun filtered through the jade leaves, giving the foliage depth in shades of gold and chartreuse – though the organism seemed to be glowing with a light all its own, as well. Castiel slowly dropped Dean’s hand as he approached the tree. Dean stood back, sensing a strange sort of intimacy in the moment, which was understandable – ostensibly that tree contained the majority of Cas’s grace, his very life force. He was pretty sure it didn’t get much more intimate than that. The two both seemed to glow as the space between them was abridged by Cas’s slow, mesmerized steps. Dean could practically see Cas’s breath being taken away once he was within a foot of the tree. He reached his hand out, hovering an inch away from the bark. It was a beautiful process to watch, his awed hesitance reminiscent of the first time Dean approached the tree twenty years before, and while he felt a bit like he was intruding on Cas’s personal moment, the pull of Cas’s grace coursed through him, making him feel welcome. He thought back on the history, on all the signs he’d missed and the things he’d felt from the beginning, and he began to feel like he was somehow part of the scene unfolding before him rather than simply a spectator.

Cas tore his gaze from the grooves of the bark and looked over his shoulder at Dean, beaming in disbelief. He held his hand out then, and Dean returned the smile, stepping forward and taking his boyfriend’s hand. “This is it,” Cas whispered giddily, looking from Dean to the tree and back. Dean’s eyes were focused on one thing only.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his eyes cataloguing the wonder and the details of Cas’s face.

“Like home,” he answered, squeezing Dean’s hand and looking into his eyes. “And not home as in where I came from, or home as in my house, home as in...” he trailed off, shaking his head. Dean grinned, dumbstruck with love as he leaned further into Cas, the conclusion of that sentence unnecessary; he understood.

“That sounds nice,” he said, nosing at Cas’s cheek. The latter turned and captured Dean’s lips between his own, kissing him languidly, taking his time pulling back and making his intention clear, making it count. The energy between them crackled and swelled, Dean’s heart beating like a bird in a cage, a summer storm raging through his veins. He met Cas’s eyes and saw lightning within them, electricity and light and heat. The weight of Cas’s abilities, of his power, settled on Dean, but he wasn’t afraid. He knew what was about to happen, and he was nervous, but it was a good kind of nervous, the kind charged with excitement.

“Are you still sure about this?” Cas asked in a low voice. Dean nodded, grinning.

“I’m actually kind of excited,” he said, squeezing Cas’s hand. “Really, really nervous, but excited.” Cas beamed at him.

“I feel similarly,” he said, pulling Dean in by the waist for another kiss. They smiled wildly at each other as they pulled apart. “Ready?” he asked breathlessly. Dean nodded, gripping Cas’s hand harder and pressing himself closer to him. Cas stepped back and Dean moved with him until Cas was leaning against the tree, Dean crowding in his personal space. They met eyes, their fingers laced together tightly, hearts beating rapidly, skin tingling with anticipation. Something unspoken passed between them, and their lips collided. One of Cas’s hands left Dean’s to press against the tree.

 

 

Dean’s breath was completely taken away, but he couldn’t focus on that, not when it felt like his soul was lifting out of his body. He felt like what he imagined the inside of a lightbulb would feel like, but in a good way, and exponentially better even than that. Something like electricity glowed within him, his veins alight. The feeling eventually subsided, leaving him energized. The warmth stayed within him, and it made him feel like he was glowing. He’d never felt a comfort or an elation like the one he was experiencing then. He opened his eyes once the high settled to something manageable, and everything just seemed so much brighter.

And then there was Cas. Dean almost couldn’t look at him, he was shining so bright – literally. He was emanating light, his eyes glowing a deep cobalt, his hair, windswept despite the stillness of the air. Once Dean met his eyes, he couldn’t look away. He was magnificent. The physical sensation ebbed and was overcome by an overwhelming surge of love and affection. “Wow,” he breathed, unable to form much more of a response. Cas beamed, and Dean found himself reciprocating the gesture.

“How does it feel?” Cas asked excitedly, echoing Dean’s earlier question. Dean fell into his embrace, smiling into his neck.

“Weird, but awesome,” he answered, kissing his way up Cas’s neck and jaw until his reached his lips. “You’re pretty gorgeous, you know that?” he said, giggling a bit in disbelief. “Wow, you’re… god, you’re amazing,” he sighed, kissing the corner of Cas’s grin.

“As are you,” he replied, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist. “I’m glad we did this,” he murmured into Dean’s hair. Dean hummed in agreement. He couldn’t quite put words to what he was feeling – he’d say he felt spiritually satiated, safe. Like he’d finally found what was missing, and he never wanted to let it go, never wanted to let Cas go.

“So what happens now?” Dean asked, though he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Well, we should both be able to cross planes safely now,” Cas answered, running his fingers through Dean’s hair. “But I’d rather take a moment for ourselves right now rather than immediately attempting to hop from one dimension to another.” Dean smiled and nodded – he could definitely stand to take a moment as well.

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed. They sat together against the tree, Dean settled back against Cas, the latter’s arms wrapped around him. Dean could feel Cas’s energy with an intensity that was completely new to him. “So my soul is bound to your grace now?” he asked. Cas hummed a confirmation into the column of Dean’s throat, which he was currently pressing kisses into and marking with small bites. “I don’t feel much different,” he remarked. “I mean, I feel really giddy, and like I’m… buzzing, I guess. Like there’s a fire inside of me everywhere,” he grinned, giggling when Cas nipped at a particularly ticklish spot on his neck. Dean was enjoying the onslaught of affection – Cas was usually only this cuddly and touchy after sex and on good mornings, though there were times he surprised Dean and began kissing his shoulders and throat for no reason. Of course, Dean realized, there was a pretty significant reason right then.

“I feel all of that, too,” Cas told him. “It’s extraordinary.” He nosed at Dean’s ear then, kissing his jaw. Dean turned his head and caught Cas’s gaze, grinning at him in amusement.

“I love you,” he said tenderly. Cas beamed, a gummy smile that made Dean’s chest flood with warmth and adoration. Cas rarely smiled like that, so Dean treasured every single one.

“I love you too,” Cas replied, planting a kiss on Dean’s lips. “And I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” Despite the amount of times Cas had already affirmed this sentiment, it still elicited a blush in Dean’s cheeks.

“I know,” Dean answered. “I trust you.” Cas’s lips quirked up in a bittersweet smile before he pressed them to Dean’s, chastely but meaningfully. “So, how’s this gonna go?” he asked. “How do we get to Neverland?”

“I’ll take care of that,” Cas told him. “All you have to do is make sure you don’t let go of me.” Dean somehow managed to abstain from making a Titanic joke and simply nodded. Cas sighed, his eyes travelling across Dean’s face until they eventually met his gaze. “I suppose we should get on with that. The longer we wait the worse things may get.” Dean nodded soberly, terror rising in him. However, he shoved it down, reminding himself of what was at stake, and stood, taking Cas’s hand and pulling him to his feet.

“So I just hold onto you?” he checked.

“Yes,” Cas confirmed, surprising Dean when he wrapped his arms around him protectively. His thought to make a sarcastic comment about celestial seatbelts, but found himself instinctively shrinking into Cas, letting him envelop Dean in his arms and do what he needed to do. “Are you ready?” he asked. Dean bent his knees and closed his eyes, bracing himself physically and mentally, as he figured he’d probably puke – and that was a best case scenario.

“As I’ll ever be,” he answered, gripping tight to Cas. The latter placed his hand on the tree, and Dean couldn’t see what was happening, but he felt the heat and the energy, he could see the light glowing around them, encompassing the two.

Cas whispering, “We’ll be alright, just hold on,” was the last thing Dean heard before his mind was overtaken by the sound of thrashing wind, which eventually gave way to crackling static. Then there was a ringing silence.

He felt like he’d passed out, and he was incredibly groggy as he came to. He didn’t feel quite as nauseous as he’d been expecting, but he did feel like he’d been torn apart and sloppily put back together again with too much Elmer’s glue. He was really only being supported by Cas; he played no part in keeping himself upright. Everything was bright and white when he opened his eyes. He squinted and mumbled something incoherent, looking around, completely clueless. The whiteness seemed to stretch on forever in all directions. As Dean’s eyes adjusted, the image became clearer, but it didn’t make any more sense; the whiteness began to look more holographic, like the back of a CD or a puddle swirled with oil. “It’s hot,” he managed to grumbled out, overwhelmed suddenly by heat. He felt he was being held by a star. He looked up at what was supposedly Cas – and it was Cas, only his hair was swirling around him as though he were underwater, and light in all different shades of blue was emitting from him at all angles, farm more intense than what had happened when he’d touched the tree that embodied his grace on Earth. Dean was surprised he could even look at him. He was smiling down at Dean in awe, stroking his hair. “What’s going on?” Dean slurred, leaning into the touch.

“Shh,” Cas hushed. “I took us through a back door. We should be safe for now, but I’ll get us somewhere much safer soon,” he assured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead that made Dean radiate from within with some unknown force. “Rest now.” Dean closed his eyes and leaned into Cas, happy to oblige.

“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” Dean murmured with a smirk before slipping back into a blissful state of unconsciousness.

 

The next time Dean came to, he felt some sort of mattress-type-object beneath him. He opened his eyes to find himself on a makeshift bed in what looked like a wooden bungalow. His eyes quickly found Cas’s, which were watching him intently, still glowing and wavering gently like light beams underwater. “Where are we?” Dean asked.

“Each of us has our own sector… our own home, if you will,” Cas explained, glancing around the space with a wondrous look on his face as his fingers carded through Dean’s hair absently. “This is mine.”

“Is it safe for us to be here?” Dean asked. “I mean, if they know you came back, isn’t this sort of the first place they’d look?”

“Quite the contrary,” Cas replied. “No one would really expect someone who wouldn’t want to be found to be hanging around the most obvious place to look. And besides, if they did think to look here they probably already did while we were still elsewhere.” Dean considered that – he wasn’t sure how much he really agreed with it, but his mind was still a little foggy, and Cas knew the territory far better than he did, so he simply nodded along and sat up against the wall at his back.

“So… why does this place look like somewhere on Earth?” he asked.

“Well, everywhere we go will look like Earth to you for the most part,” he told him. “Maybe a more enhanced version, but there’s only so much the human brain is designed to be able to comprehend. So you’ll see what you know.” Had he the energy, Dean thought he’d probably be at least mildly offended by that remark. “However, my home is one of those that are especially modelled after Earth, as I’ve always been fond of humanity’s ways, the things they’ve managed to create…” he trailed off a moment before refocusing on Dean. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“All right,” Dean answered. “Sort of like all my molecules were separated and mushed back together, but I think I’m doing pretty good, considering.” Cas smiled at him apologetically.

“So you don’t feel like you’re dying?” he clarified.

“Nope, I don’t sense any death on the horizon for me,” he assured him. Cas visibly relaxed then, kissing Dean passionately. Dean reciprocated eagerly, the two grinning stupidly at each other as they pulled back.

“I’ll make sure it stays that way,” Cas vowed.

“Castiel?” a third voice asked, interrupting them. The two jumped apart, and Dean’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. The voice was feminine yet resonant, and it seemed to echo itself, as if underwater. The owner of the voice stepped into view. Dean wasn’t sure what he’d expected a god to look like on their own plane, but this girl looked pretty human. She had red hair that flowed around her head like liquid fire, and an aura of pinks and reds surrounded her. Her eyes glowed in rich, natural greens. Dean tensed, but when he looked over at Cas he saw him relax.

“Anna,” he said, smiling softly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I heard you were back,” she said, sounding a bit uneasy. Cas stood and strode toward her. “I wanted to see if it was true.”

“Well, I’m here,” Cas replied. Anna’s eyes travelled past Cas’s shoulder and landed on Dean, who shrunk under her gaze. Her energy was much heavier than Cas’s, and it sure didn’t do much to make Dean feel safe.

“And you have company,” she commented, her voice distrusting. Dean tested out a nervous smile, lifting a hand in an awkward, quickly aborted attempt at a wave.

“This is Dean,” Cas stated, his tone taking on a defensive edge as he stepped to a position where Anna couldn’t get to Dean without going through him first. She met Cas’s eyes.

“I know who he is,” she replied. Her eyes softened then. “He’s the human you fell for.” Cas nodded, and Dean caught a glimmer of a smile pass across his face, so quickly it was almost imperceptible. Dean blushed – it was weird to hear the observations others made on his and Cas’s relationship. “You know he’s in danger just being here, right?”

“We discussed it at length before coming to this decision,” Cas assured her, but there was no comfort in it – he was still making sure she knew he wasn’t going to let his guard down. Her expression remained uneasy.

“Cas, there’s only one known way to bring a human across the threshold,” she said, her fingers fidgeting in a very human fashion. “You know that process is irreversible, right?”

“Yes,” Cas answered, his voice cutting. Anna gave him the soft, caring look of an older sister.

“Cas, I just want you two to be safe. Why did you even come back, anyway?” she inquired. Cas sighed, looking back to Dean. Dean rose hesitantly from the bed, walking over and standing beside Cas (and a bit behind him – Anna was more than a little intimidating).

“You know what’s happening on Earth, correct? You know of all the destruction they’re causing?” Cas said. Anna nodded solemnly. “Then you know that their ranks are growing, and subsequently so is the strength of their attacks.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. Realization dawned over her face then. “Is that why you came here? You think you can stop them?”

“Yes,” Cas replied simply.

“Castiel,” Anna said, shaking her head. “I care about Earth and the humans just as much as you do, and I would do anything to stop them, but anything within reason. At this point it’s just not possible to stop them.” She eyed him with remorse and hopelessness in her wide emerald eyes.

“I’m not going to take on an army,” Cas explained.

“Then how are you gonna stop them?” Anna asked, her eyebrows drawing together, voice wary. Cas looked to Dean again, who slipped his hand into Cas’s. He looked back to Anna.

“We’re going to find the Creator,” Cas told her. Her face fell into one of shock, then quickly pity with an air that only older siblings could exude.

“Castiel… how can you even think… you know that’s a hopeless search,” she replied. “He barely even talks to Gabriel anymore. He stopped talking to Michael a while ago. Some say he still talks to Joshua, but he’s probably even harder to pin down than the Creator himself.”

“Well, then we’ll start with Gabriel,” Cas said, not backing down. Anna slumped in on herself, clearly surrendering, or at least giving up on trying to talk Cas out of his plan.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Go on whatever hopeless conquest you want. I’ll support you, but I can’t join you.” She shook her head sadly. “You can’t ask that of me.”

“I’m not,” Cas replied, his tone less harsh. “Just don’t try to stop me.”

“I won’t,” she promised. She then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Be safe.” And then she was gone.

“So uh… she a friend of yours?” Dean asked a bit awkwardly.

“Yes,” Cas answered, minute traces of nostalgia and heartbreak in his voice. “She was one of my best friends.” Dean squeezed his boyfriend’s hand, hoping to offer at least a small dose of comfort.

“And Gabriel, he’s your friend too?”

“He was,” Cas said. “We can only hope he still is.” Dean sensed the hurt in Cas’s voice, he could feel a sense of hopelessness coming over his words.

“Hey,” Dean said, standing so that he was in front of Cas, their noses mere inches apart as he caught his eyes. “This is gonna work, all right? We didn’t come all this way for nothing. We’ll stop it,” he assured him, caressing his cheek. Cas leaned into the touch, smiling gratefully at Dean.

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, pecking his lips. “I needed that.” He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair absently, his eyes drifting aimlessly from Dean’s face around the small quarters. Dean could tell he was trying to figure out their next step, so he didn’t interrupt. “Do you feel you need to rest anymore?” Cas asked, abruptly regaining his focus on Dean.

“I feel fine,” Dean assured him, only sort of lying – the pain was more of a discomfort, and it was manageable despite the fact that it felt like his stomach had disintegrated into a formless blob. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.” Cas nodded distractedly. “Hey, you okay?” Dean asked, placing a hand on Cas’s shoulder. Cas nodded, but he still wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“It’s… strange to be back after so long,” he said. “I don’t even know if we’ll be able to find Gabriel, or if he’ll help us if we do.” He shook his head, looking down. “I don’t even know if he’ll be able to help us.”

“Well he’s our best lead, right?” Dean pointed out. “Might as well start there. It’s better than sitting on our asses, which right now seems like the only other option.” Cas nodded, though he was clearly still thinking, worrying.

“So are you suggesting we depart now?” Cas asked, meeting Dean’s eye again. The latter shrugged.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he answered simply, not wanting to pressure or guilt Cas into anything he wasn’t ready to do. Cas nodded again, hesitation clear in his face.

“All right,” he agreed, gathering his courage. “Let’s go.” He wrapped his arms around Dean and Dean held him right back. “Would you like to be conscious for this round?” he asked. Dean rose his eyebrows – the fact that being conscious during travel through Cas’s dimension was possible was news to him.

“Sure, as long as it won’t make me puke or bleed out my eyes,” he consented. Cas chuckled, turning Dean so that his back was pressed to his chest.

“If that happens, we’ll rest,” he assured him, “but I don’t think it will.” He pressed a kiss to the soft skin under his ear. “You’ll see better this way.” Dean melted into Cas’s arms, finding a sense of safety in his arms, which were clearly exponentially stronger here than they were on Earth. “Are you ready?” he whispered in Dean’s ear. Dean nodded, swallowing nervously. He gripped tight to Cas’s arms in anticipation. “Here we go.”


	13. Chapter 13

Dean was tempted to close his eyes when he felt the jolt, but once his eyes were open he didn’t think he could even blink. Everything was rushing past him in a blur of colors and light. He felt like he was flying through a thousand different tunnels and cities at an impossible speed. There was nothing beneath his feet; the only thing supporting him was Cas, who seemed to have lost almost all human form and was more of a warm blue light wrapped around Dean, tethering him as they soared through… well, Dean didn’t know what exactly they were travelling through, but it was beautiful, and Dean felt like he was floating on a soft wave rolling through the ocean. The air around them was crisp and clean as it brushed past them. Dean leaned instinctually back into Cas and was surprised to find a solid weight against his back and head despite the fact that Cas didn’t seem to be more than a huge beam of light. 

All too soon it was over, and Dean was leaning into the Cas he could recognize as more than a wavelength, the one that was wearing that stupid trench coat and now windblown hair that still fluttered around his head. Den regained his footing, a wonderstruck smile plastered to his face. “That was sick,” he marveled breathlessly. Cas grinned at him, but it wasn’t all there.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said, and while it was clear he was being sincere, it was also super obvious how nervous he was. Dean took a moment to look around their surroundings and realized that they were at the foot of a driveway – a super long one that stretched up a hill in a sinuous path, ending in a large driveway in front of a huge mansion. It was a classy mansion, granted, but it still felt a bit out of place to Dean.

“So this is where Gabriel lives?” Dean guessed. Cas nodded, his jaw set and eyes trained on the house. “And you couldn’t have dropped us off at the top of the huge hill?” Dean griped, only half joking. Cas rolled his eyes, but an amused grin snuck onto his face, so Dean figured the comment was a hit.

“Come on,” Cas said, taking Dean by the hand and leading them up the hill. Dean was pleasantly surprised (albeit slightly alarmed) to find he was fatigued by climbing the cruel hill – at least some things were the same as they were on Earth. 

Cas grew more and more rigid beside him as they neared the house, weaving through the multiple cars – which would probably each be worth six figures at least down on Earth – and making their way up the steps of the porch. Cas raised his fist to knock on the large, ornate, wooden double doors, but they flew open before he got the chance. 

“Cassie!” a voice called as a golden figure slid down the railing of a huge staircase that framed a crystalline tiled floor. He was much shorter than Dean had been expecting, and he had a smug grin that made Dean feel uneasy as he swaggered over to the door. He glanced at Dean, his eyes flaring with rich, deep, golden light even more intense than the rest of him. His lips pursed for a moment as he appraised Dean, who felt naked and vulnerable as well as exposed beneath his judgmental gaze that held a power even stronger than Cas’s or Anna’s. “You’re back,” he stated curtly, turning his eyes back to Cas as he flashed them a tight lipped smiled. “Been a while, little bro.” 

“Yes, I know,” Cas sighed, his eyebrows rising and eyes widening in remorseful guilt. “And I’m sorry, Gabriel.” Cas was about to say something else, but Gabriel cut him off, nodding toward Dean.

“Who’s this?” he asked suspiciously.

“This is Dean,” Cas said, stepping in front of him slightly (which made Dean feel a little undignified, but also a little turned on). “Dean, this is Gabriel.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Dean grinned weakly, still fairly nervous under Gabriel’s harsh gaze. “You’ve got some pretty sweet cars down there,” he added for good measure, despite the fact that he had no idea what purpose they served. Gabriel cracked a smile then.

“Aren’t they?” he agreed. “I’m pretty proud of them myself. You’re a mechanic, right Dean?” Dean’s eyes widened, his stomach clenching in a strange sort of fear.

“Yeah,” he answered hesitantly. “You mind telling me how you know that?” Gabriel beamed a toothless grin.

“I’m very powerful, Dean,” he answered simply. “I know these things.” A moment of silence passed between them as Gabriel let that weight sink in before he clapped his hands together suddenly. “All right, well we certainly have a lot of catching up to do, and that shouldn’t happen on the porch. Come on in, I’ll have someone get you some drinks,” he said, stepping to the side and ushering the two of them into the foyer. “So Dean, you drive a ’67 Impala, right?” Gabe asked conversationally, leading them into a room full of plush yet tasteful furniture.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean answered. “She was my Dad’s. Kind of a mess, and she’d been sitting in the garage for about a decade when I started working on her when I was around fourteen.” 

“Classic muscle car,” Gabe nodded in approval, falling into a large leather armchair and draping himself over it. “You fixed one up all by yourself?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dean answered modestly, taking a seat beside Cas on a leather loveseat. “My Uncle Bobby’s always been a mechanic, so he helped me out with getting the resources I needed and all that, but all the manual labor… yeah.”

“That’s impressive,” Gabe said. Dean shrugged bashfully.

“Eh, it meant a lot to me is all,” he replied, thinking back on his early teen years and how excited he was to finally be able to call the Impala his. It was one of the last things he had of his father, and he remembered how badly he wanted to fix it, make it into something more than a lump under a tarp taking up space in the garage. “And I wanted to have it ready to go by the time I was sixteen,” he continued, brushing off the memories and reminding himself where he was, that he needed to be present there. Gabe nodded.

“Gabriel,” Cas started, “we came-”

“Cassie, Cassie, Cassie,” Gabriel cut him off again, waving his hand theatrically. “We’ve just sat down. I haven’t even given you beer yet.” And then suddenly there was a bottle of beer on either end table that framed the loveseat. “There, now we have beer. And now it’s time to catch up some.”

“Water would’ve sufficed,” Cas murmured, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Dean wanted to reach out and take them in his, but he was still cautious of Gabriel’s seemingly omniscient gaze.

“Come on Cas, lighten up a little. I haven’t seen my little brother in twenty years, can you blame for wanting to talk to you before launching right into whatever business you’re here for?” 

“I’m sorry Gabriel,” Cas apologized sincerely. “I have missed you, it’s just… a stressful time.”

“Then take a minute to unwind!” Gabe told him, leaning even farther back into the leather of his seat. “I’ve got a pretty good guess as to why you’re here – you know, other than to see you’re awesome older brother and introduce your boyfriend to the fam – and I think you really need to stop putting everything on your own shoulders for two seconds.” His tone was jovial and light, but Dean could tell he seriously meant what he was saying; Dean was an older brother, he knew what it was like to want to watch after your little brother, and with a little brother like Sam he’d often given the “dude, have some fun once in a while” speech. “So, how’s the whole grace-soul-twizzler thing feel?” he asked, bringing a blush to Dean’s cheeks. He glanced over to Cas to find him in a similar state.

“It’s… cool,” Dean stammered, smiling involuntarily at Cas, who reciprocated the gesture.

“Yes, very cool,” he agreed, his eyes still locked with Deans’. 

“Very poetic,” Gabe commented sarcastically. “But seriously, is it like a really weird high?”

“God, no,” Dean answered. Then, thinking it over, “Well, maybe a little. ‘Cause it’s awesome, but I also feel a little sick – course, the sickness is probably due to the whole interdimensional space travel thing.” Gabe smirked at that, giggling lightly. “Hey, by the way, can you use those cars to hop from one place to another or are they just…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands.

“That is a good question, my friend,” Gabe answered. “Sometimes I bring ‘em with me to arrive in style, but mostly they’re just there because they’re pretty,” he shrugged. Dean nodded respectfully, figuring there wasn’t much opportunity to drive them around even if one wanted to. “So, Cassie, what have you been up to for twenty years?” Gabriel asked, turning his attention back to his little brother and his escapades on Earth. 

“I have a bee farm,” was the first thing Cas blurted out. Gabriel raised his eyebrows.

“Well that’s… humble.” 

“It’s very calming, as well as rewarding I find,” he reported. “And of course I travelled a lot, which was amazing.” Dean could tell Cas was relaxing now, at least fractionally, but his reports were tinged with guilt. “How have you been?” he asked. 

“Oh, you know, same old same old,” he answered, sitting forward suddenly. “Not much has changed up here except the increase in people who wanna chase the human race of the face of the Earth.” Dean shifted uncomfortably in response to Gabriel’s tone – it was casual, which was alarming in itself, but there was also a bite to his words. “Sorry, gods, not people,” he corrected himself. Cas and Dean exchanged uneasy glances. “Well, that’s why you’re here right?” Gabe asked, his voice sharpening. “To ask me to lead you into battle against the rebels?”

“Well, not exactly-” Cas began, only to be silenced again.

“I can’t do it, Cassie,” he stated plainly. “I’m sorry, and I don’t like what they’re doing either, but there’s too many of them at this point.” His eyes were (quite literally) blazing lowly as he stared Cas down. “Course, I might’ve been able to help you had you came to me twenty years ago.”

“Hey,” Dean interjected, offended and confused as to how Gabe could go from loving and jovial to cold and bitter so quickly.

“Dean,” Cas said lowly, “he’s right. I left, and that was extremely cowardly and untimely of me.” He turned to Gabriel pointedly then, and Dean managed to keep his mouth shut, as Cas seemed to have the situation under at least some sort of control – his mouthing off would probably only make things worse. “I’m not here to ask you to fight against them.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Then what do you want from me?” he asked, his voice losing its edge to genuine curiosity. Cas looked to Dean, who laced their fingers together and held tight to his hand supportively. Dean didn’t miss the way Gabriel’s eyes fell to their intertwined fingers, a far off look in his eyes that lasted just a second or two before they flashed up to meet Castiel’s.

“I was wondering if you would be able to tell me where I could find our father,” he told him. Gabriel’s face fell.

“Sorry little bro, daddy and I aren’t exactly the closest anymore,” he replied bitterly, though his face was more pained than angry. 

“You’re closer to him than anyone else,” Cas pointed out.

“I get a Christmas card every year!” Gabriel exclaimed. Dean had to assume it was a joke or a metaphor. “Sometimes he even remembers my birthday if I’m lucky,” he grinned sarcastically. Cas looked at him evenly.

“Gabriel, he’s the only one who can stop this. Do you know where I could find him?” he asked calmly. Gabriel stared at him for another moment before sighing and sitting back.

“I don’t know where,” he said, “but I can tell you how.” Both Dean and Cas perked up at that, sharing a quick look between the two of them before turning their attention back to Gabriel. “It’s not one hundred percent, not even forty percent, but it’s all I’ve got.” 

“We’ll take anything,” Cas said, leaning forward, his grip on Dean’s hand tightening subconsciously. 

“It’s cliché as hell, but you’ve gotta follow the path or the road or whatever,” he told them, clearly not pleased to be handing over the information. Dean narrowed his eyes, not understanding. “You can’t just zap there, you gotta hike.”

“What do you mean ‘follow the path’?” Dean asked. “What path?”

“It’ll look different for everybody,” he said. “Probably not for you two since you’re all connected or whatever, but who knows. And it’ll also change as you go along. Could be a highway or a nature path – hell, it could be a river or a desert. I don’t know how long it’ll take or if there’s even an end to it. All I know is you gotta follow it.” 

“Well, that’s not at all daunting,” Dean said sarcastically, his voice weak as trepidation crawled across his skin. 

“We’ll be okay,” Cas promised quietly, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the skin of Dean’s hand. Dean met Cas’s gaze, but he felt Gabriel’s eyes on them like a molten brand. 

“So where do we start?” Dean asked, clearing his throat.

“Nearest road you see,” Gabe answered, his eyes flickering almost imperceptibly down to their still entwined hands before darting between their faces.

“Thank you so much, Gabriel,” Cas said, rising from the loveseat. “I really appreciate this, and I am sorry for leaving when I shouldn’t have, but I’m going to fix this,” he vowed. Gabe nodded, hefting himself out of his chair and embracing Cas.

“Be safe out there, little bro,” he said quietly. Cas nodded and they held the embrace for a prolonged moment before releasing each other. “And you,” Gabriel said, pointing at Dean, “you watch after him, okay? Don’t let him do anything stupid. Falling to Earth and falling in love with a human was reckless enough, no matter how pretty you are,” he teased with a playful wink. Cas rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics and reassumed his place beside Dean.

“Uh, yeah, sure, got it,” Dean agreed, flushing slightly. “I’ll do my best.” Gabe nodded then.

“Well, it’s been great seeing you boys, but it seems you two have got a journey to embark on,” he grinned. Cas nodded solemnly.

“Goodbye, Gabriel,” he said in a tone far too grave for Dean’s liking. Gabriel’s eyes melted to liquid as he gazed at his brother. Dean could feel the pain in that gaze, and he could feel the pain it was causing Cas.

“See ya later, Cassie. Be safe.”

And then they were back at the bottom of the hill. They looked down the street they seemed to be on, which descended into a forest.

“You see woods too, right?” Dean asked, nervously taking Cas’s hand.

“Yes,” he answered. “I supposed we should follow the path.” Dean nodded, and the two looked at each other briefly before starting down the path. 

Thankfully they weren’t dark, threatening woods. As they crossed the threshold light shone down on them, filtering through the foliage, and though the light was sparse it was easy to see in. Dean looked around in wonder and found that Cas seemed to be amazed by their surroundings as well.

“This isn’t so bad,” Dean said as they walked on, soft, earthy soil yielding to their steps beneath their feet. 

“It’s actually quite nice,” Cas agreed, planting a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “We’re gonna be okay,” he told Dean earnestly, repeating himself but not without purpose. “If it seems to be too much for either one of us we can rest and figure something else out,” he said. Dean nodded, not in the mood to pull out all of the “what-if’s” that could follow up that statement. 

They walked on hand in hand, exchanging small bits of dialogue occasionally. Mostly they travelled in companionable silence. The eventually they both began to notice that the forest was beginning to feel repetitive. “Cas,” Dean said, “are we walking in circles?”

“No,” Cas answered, seemingly more to himself as he shook his head lightly. “No, we can’t be. Gabriel said to follow the path and we’re following the path.”

“Maybe he lied?” Dean suggested hesitantly. He didn’t want to believe it, but he swore they’d passed that gnarled tree with knobs that looked like eyes in it at least once before. 

“No,” Cas stated firmly, shaking his head again. “Gabe’s always been fond of pranks, but he wouldn’t pull something like this, he’s not sadistic.” Dean wasn’t too sure of that, but Cas seemed to trust him, so Dean didn’t argue or make the asshole comment he might have made otherwise. 

“Well then maybe the Wizard of Oz doesn’t wanna be found,” Dean suggested, holding tight to Cas’s hand. 

“Or maybe we’re not going in circles,” Cas grumbled, irritated, resigned, and stubborn as hell. Dean sighed.

“Fine,” he surrendered begrudgingly. “But if we die in an infinitely looped forest, I’m blaming you.”

Then suddenly they were no longer in a forest, but instead on a highway that seemed to be deserted. And it was night. “What the fuck?” Dean blurted, clutching tighter to Cas as he looked around at the blackened, ominous woods that lined the asphalt, the flickering streetlights doing little to illuminate them.

“This is progress,” Cas said, continuing forward.

“This is creepy as all hell,” Dean muttered, following alongside his boyfriend and staying tight to his side. 

“At least it’s something different,” Cas reminded him. “That’s a good sign.” Dean nodded, but his eyes were still surveying their surroundings. A green sign was posted on the side of the road, but it was blank. Very helpful, Dean thought to himself in sarcastic spite.

“I guess it’s not the worst thing,” he granted. “Sure, we could be run over or a psychopath with a chainsaw could charge out of the woods, but maybe we’ll come up on a burger joint somewhere up the road.” Cas rolled his eyes.

“I highly doubt any of those things will happen,” he assured him. Then he turned concerned eyes on Dean. “Were you hoping to get food?” he asked. “Are you hungry?”

“Not hungry,” Dean answered, “just a little in the mood to stress eat is all.” Cas grinned at that, pulling Dean closer to him. 

“We’ll see what we can do,” he said, and they continued their hike, the conversation light and sprinkled with comfortable moments of silence. Dean was still scared as shit and was wondering if they’d be lost in an eternal night, but the comfort he felt flowing from Cas into his bloodstream made it all a little more bearable. They’d only been walking for what seemed like twenty to thirty minutes when a glow began bleeding through the horizon. 

“Is that the sun?” Dean asked.

“It’s most likely an imitation of it, but yes, I believe that is a sunrise,” Cas answered.

“Well… that seems good,” Dean offered unsurely. “I mean, a creepy highway in daylight is better than a creepy highway at three in the morning right?”

“I’d say so,” Cas agreed. However, the sun began rising rapidly then, a blazing ball of blinding light forcing them to squint as it ascended, stopping in its tracks once it was in the middle of the sky. Dean and Cas were so busy watching the star’s rapid movements that it took them a minute to realize that their surroundings had changed once again.

“Fucking hell,” Dean all but growled, shading his eyes with his hands as he looked around. All there was, in all directions, was sand, mountains of it, some of which reflected the sun right back at them. “What kind of a path is this?” Dean demanded rhetorically, shouting at a force that he knew would not give him an answer. 

“I say we head straight,” Cas said, unreasonably calm, “see where it takes us.” Dean huffed an indignant and frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes, but he walked along with Cas anyway, swearing under his breath as his boots sank into the sand. The sun was beating down on them mercilessly, and the tricky terrain was not making the trek any more endurable.

“This better lead somewhere,” he muttered.

“It will,” Cas said resolutely, his voice determined and faithful. “We’re getting closer. I can feel something.” All Dean felt was sand getting in his boots, but he went with it. The mission was important, no matter how many curveballs this tripped out plane of existence threw them. This leg of the journey didn’t hold much conversation, as the silence was filled mainly by Dean’s pathetic huffs of breath. Cas’s eyes blazed blue with fire and determination as they hiked on.

“Are you thirsty?” Cas asked after about fifteen minutes. Dean wanted to say yes, but when he went to swallow he felt fine.

“I guess not,” he answered, disconcerted by his body’s lack of responses to the exertion – there was no thirst, no hunger, no burn in his muscles. Hell, he wasn’t even sweating. Still, it didn’t make the heat enjoyable, and there was nothing in sight besides obscene amounts of sand. 

Dean lost all sense of time after a while, his mind wandering as he followed mindlessly after Cas. He had a lot of questions, such as what were they going to do if they never got to the Creator, or if they did, what if he didn’t want to help them? And then he was thinking about his family back home, about Mary and Charlie, about Sam and Jess and their babies. He thought about the future, and how it might not come to pass. He looked to Cas realized how important he was to him. He tried and failed to wrap his head around how rapidly and seamlessly Cas had made himself such a permanent part of Dean’s life.

“Cas,” he said, stopping abruptly.

“Yes?” he said, narrowing his eyes curiously at Dean. “What is it? Are you all right?” Dean smiled at him, and it held a weight in it, a sad, loving, emotional weight.

“No matter what happens, I love you,” he said, mustering up the will to arrange his thoughts and feelings into understandable speech. “I’ll stay with you through anything, no matter how all this pans out.” Cas looked at him with sadness in his eyes, and Dean kissed the frown off his lips. “No matter what, I’m not leaving you.”

“Good,” Cas murmured finally into Dean’s lips, “because I couldn’t stand to lose you.” 

The sound of broken glass and a microphone screeching on high volume filled their ears, and they were suddenly surrounded by static. Cas wrapped his arms protectively around Dean, who just as quickly folded into Cas’s embrace. 

“What’s going on?” Dean asked into Cas’s chest. “What is this?” 

“I don’t know,” Cas said, his voice quivering in a failing attempt to stay even. “Hold on to me. We’ll be okay, just hold on. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he vowed, tightening his grip on Dean and growing larger, becoming more light beam than human again. 

“Castiel,” a voice unknown to Dean called familiarly, almost sighing. Everything fell around them and suddenly they were in a poorly lit cove in a library sat on a worn out couch. Across from them was a small framed man with wild curls of brown hair and wide, light eyes. Unlike the other gods Dean had encountered, this one (if he even was a god) was void of any light, or anything else visibly inhuman for that matter. When Cas didn’t respond, Dean turned to him and found a look of unspeakable awe on his face. His eyes were wide, and the light that had been emanating from him since they’d arrived in his plane had simmered down.

But Dean felt something swelling in his chest, an onslaught of extreme happiness mixed in with a whole jumble of other emotions. He had no idea who this man was, and though he had a good guess in mind, he didn’t know why he felt so breathless. Then it occurred to him that the emotions he was feeling weren’t his own – they were Cas’s, and they were pouring into Dean via their soul-grace connection.

Cas finally spoke, his voice soft and full of emotion, the word he uttered barely a breath. “Father?”


	14. Chapter 14

Dean was expecting something more in response from the creature in front of them, something emotional and powerful. But all he gave Cas was a fairly awkward, “Hey… son.”

Dean looked incredulously between Cas and his father. “Really?” he blurted out, unable to contain his disbelief. He looked back to the slight guy who was sitting across from them, his grand chair practically swallowing him. Dean was positive he was at least a few inches taller than this guy, and the chair made him look even smaller. “You’re the Creator? Some squirrely little guy who’s barely five feet tall?” he asked.

“Dean,” Cas reprimanded quietly, apparently quite embarrassed by Dean’s disrespect.

“I’m much bigger than this,” the Creator replied in a small voice, “I’m just not a big fan of showing off, I guess,” he laughed awkwardly. “Also, you can call me Chuck.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Chuck,” he repeated. The squirrely guy nodded. He turned to Cas then. “You mean to tell me some scrawny guy named Chuck who doesn’t seem to own a hairbrush is the almighty master of the universe?” he asked, his voice dull despite the incredulity and outrage bubbling inside him. 

“Dean, show some respect,” Cas said, glowering at him slightly.

“No, it’s cool,” Chuck assured them. “I get why you’re so hesitant to believe it. That’s why I prefer to go by Chuck. ‘The Creator’ makes me sound like an overlord, or an overpowered asshole,” he explained.

“And you’re not?” Dean asked. 

“I like to think of myself as more of a scientist,” Chuck replied, squinting, his tone a bit unsure. “Or maybe more of a writer whose characters and worlds took on lives of their own.” 

“So you made Sims and let them do what they want?” Dean supplied.

“Sort of,” Chuck nodded. 

“Well, one of your little games has gotten pretty out of control,” Dean said. He could feel Cas’s eyes pleading with him to choose his words more carefully, but he couldn’t bring his mind to equate the guy in front of him with the Creator of the Universe. Chuck sighed.

“I know,” he replied solemnly. Dean and Cas exchanged consulting glances.

“So you’ll put an end to it then?” Cas asked hesitantly, but with a small flare of hope in his voice. Chuck looked away then.

“You shouldn’t have come looking for me,” he said quietly. Both Dean and Cas narrowed their eyes, sharing another confused look. “It’s not my place to interfere. Like I said, I let things run their course.”

“So you’re just gonna let your bratty ass kids throw a tantrum and nuke a whole planet?” Dean asked, not bothering with respect or delicacy. “Over seven billion people will die, an entire species, and you don’t even care?”

“Of course I care,” he insisted. “Although, to be fair, they do have a point in that you’re destroying your own planet… but then it is your planet, not theirs, so I don’t know why they care so much… I’m on your side here, I really am, it’s just…” he trailed off. 

“It’s just what?” Cas demanded, an anger rising in him finally. “It’s just that you don’t care about billions of lives being wasted for the selfish, pointless gain of your children?”

“It’s too late now,” Chuck told them, seeming to have lost hope as he shook his head. 

“No, it really isn’t,” Dean assured him urgently. “There’s plenty of time for you to stop them.”

“How would I stop them now?” Chuck asked, leaning forward, challenging Dean for an answer. “Back when the motion started there wasn’t enough of them to make an impact. They were a small group in one garrison with an ineffectual plan to punish one race. They didn’t seem like a problem when it started. But now…” He shook his head again, sitting back in his chair and losing the fire that had begun flaring up. “Their movement is spreading across universes. There are so many of them. How am I supposed to punish them all? What can I possibly do to all of them?”

“You’ll figure something out, dammit,” Cas growled. “Humans, while horribly flawed, are one of the most awe-inspiring species to ever come to pass, and while they are capable of horrible things, they are also capable of amazing feats of progress and kindness. You can’t just throw that all away because punishing a large group is too much trouble. You’re supposed to be righteous, you’re supposed to care! You don’t have to kill anybody, or cast anyone into Hell. You can put an end to this one way or another.” 

“Castiel, Dean…” Chuck began, “for the most part, this universe is all you two have ever known. So I know that it’s hard to wrap your mind around, but this is just one small planet in one small universe we’re talking about. I’m sorry, but there are a thousand more just like it. An infinite amount of ones different from it, some better, some worse, depending on how you see it. I don’t want any of this to happen, I never did. But the truth is, civilizations fall all the time. Species go extinct. Can you imagine how impossible it would be to make sure everything went smoothly everywhere?” 

“This is different than the ice age or some freak meteor,” Dean argued. “What these guys are gonna do is straight up murder!”

“Dean, your species is already dying,” Chuck rebutted. “It’s killing itself with climate change and diabetes and war, amongst other things. I know it’s not the best way for humanity on Earth to go out, but I’ve got literally a billion other things to concern myself with than the barely premature end of a single species that’s already set on destroying itself.” Dean clenched his jaw; while he accepted that Chuck’s speech made some sort of sense, he still wasn’t ready to just lie down and accept the violent deaths of every person on Earth, of children and families, of his loved ones. 

“How are those billion other things going?” he asked, anger and attitude dripping from his words. “Because from what I’ve heard, most of your children haven’t even met you. Now, I don’t know how your little science experiments are going,” he said, spitting the words, “but your fatherhood skills could use some work.” Chuck’s eyebrows drew together in what looked to be a mix of sadness, regret, and a whole lot of pity. 

“I can’t-”

“Yes, you can!” Dean yelled, cutting off whatever Chuck was about to say. Chuck gave him a look that pretty much said, “Are you done?” 

“Father…” Cas began, then correcting himself, “Chuck… we would stop this ourselves if we could… but it’s too much for us. There’s not enough time, nor are there enough resources or people willing or able to help up. Please, you’re our last and only hope,” he pleaded, Dean’s heart breaking at the lost and broken tone in his boyfriend’s voice. “I need to believe that you care at least a little about the fates of innocent lives. They don’t need to be terminated like this, not with this violence, malice, and greed. Please, I… I need something to have faith in.” Chuck began to look genuinely guilty as Cas’s speech went on, and Dean once again squeezed Cas’s hand. He’d barely ever seen his boyfriend get this way, and it made Dean want to punch Chuck in the mouth, Creator of the Universe or not. 

“You shouldn’t have come looking for me,” Chuck said softly. 

“Please,” Cas repeated. “There has to be something you can do to help us.” Chuck shook his head, his fist to his mouth as he stared off for a moment. Finally, he sighed.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he agreed. Dean and Cas exchanged cautiously positive looks before turning back to hear what else Chuck had to say. “I can’t promise much, but… I’ll see.”

“Thank you so much,” Cas gushed in excitement and relief as well as a touch of disbelief. Dean grinned mildly, as he recognized that this could just be a lie to get the two of them off his back, but Chuck seemed to be a pretty honest guy, so he allowed himself to have a little faith.

“I think it’s time you boys get home,” Chuck told them. “You have more urgent matters to worry about.” Dean and Cas shared a confused, concerned look, but before they could even ask what Chuck had meant by that, they were on their feet. In the clearing. In Lawrence. Under the shade of the tree.

“Is this real?” Dean asked. “Are we really back in Lawrence or is this another mind trick of the gods?”

“It’s real,” Cas confirmed, confidently though he seemed to be perplexed about something else.

“Well… that was a shorter visit than I thought it would be,” Dean said.

“Yes, I thought it’d be longer too,” Cas agreed, observing his fingers as he flexed them in front of himself. “Although, down here on Earth we were gone for about nine days.” Dean balked at that.

“We’ve been gone over a week?” he asked incredulously. “But we were only up there for half a day, if that!”

“Time moves differently there than it does on Earth,” Cas murmured distractedly, his focus still on himself. “This is strange.” 

“What is? What’s strange? Are you all right?” Dean asked, laying a feather light touch to Cas’s shoulder. Considering the circumstances, anything that qualified as “strange” was call for concern. 

“I’m much stronger than I should be,” he answered. “Even if this were a temporary visit in a human form, I shouldn’t be this powerful. I don’t understand how this is happening.”

“Maybe it’s Chuck,” Dean suggested. “He said he’d see what he could do, maybe giving you a few power-ups was what he meant.”

“But why would I need them?” Cas asked, frustrated by the question that he seemed to be asking himself, voicing his thoughts aloud. “What use do I have for them on Earth if all the threats are coming from a completely different plane?” Dean couldn’t provide an answer, so he just shrugged, a gesture Cas didn’t even see as he squinted. His head lifted then, his eyes going wide and alert, his lips falling open in an “O” shape. “Dean, something’s wrong,” he said urgently, grabbing at Dean’s hand.

“What? What is it, what’s wrong?” Dean asked frantically. Cas met Dean’s eye then, and he looked mildly horrified. 

“There are other angels on Earth,” he said. Dean did not like the sound of that, nor the expression on Cas’s face. “Hold onto me,” Cas warned him, tightening his grip on Dean’s hand. The eminent nausea hit him, but he felt it was much easier to deal with. However, a whole new type of sickness overcame him when he surveyed his surroundings and took in the sight in front of him. 

There, in the living room of Dean’s apartment – which still showed small signs of damage from the storm – were Mary and Charlie, sitting in kitchen chairs that were sat back to back. They weren’t tied up or gagged, but they restrained by something, something that wasn’t exactly physical. Their heads whipped in Cas and Dean’s direction when they arrived in the room, their eyes wild and scared. They weren’t crying, but there were tear tracks on their cheeks. “Oh, god, no,” Dean let out, willing himself not to cry or puke. “Mom, Charlie,” he whispered, his voice thick. He and Cas rushed over to them, intent to help them somehow (since there was clearly something unnatural going on), but they were flung forcefully against the wall before they could get within six inches of the women. Mary closed her eyes and flinched while Charlie screamed silently, struggling against what looked like invisible ropes. “Cas, what the fuck is this?” Dean growled, his heart racing and his throat closing up.

“I don’t know,” Cas grunted back.

“I know what it is,” a voice came from the kitchen. Then a figure emerged, a long blade held between the long, pale fingers of her hands. She tossed her long red hair over her shoulder, smirking at Cas and Dean. “This is a wakeup call,” Anna stated.

“Anna?” Cas asked in a small voice. Dean managed to turn his head toward Cas, and the betrayed and heartbroken look on his face almost made Dean wish he hadn’t been able to move his head. Of course, he didn’t even need to see Cas’s face; he could feel his heartbreak within his own chest, the pain flooding through their connection. 

“Hey there, Cas,” she said, a beaming grin on her face. “You know, I’m glad you’re here. After all, you are the one who inspired the rebellion in the first place. None of us knew free will was so accessible before you took your little leap of faith and skipped out on us.”

“How… Did you do this?” Cas asked, still shocked.

“Who else would have?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Castiel, this is my handiwork indeed.”

“But… why?” he asked, his voice breathy at he stared at her with pained eyes. 

“Because they’re right, Cas!” she exclaimed. “I realized that while you were away. They’re right.”

“No, they’re not!” Cas replied, the force lifting from Dean’s chest as he and Cas fell away from the wall. Dean gained his footing and figured a good, strong flush of emotional turmoil helped Cas channel his power. He knew Anna hadn’t let them down, because her face was painted with surprise, though she tried to hide it. “Anna, how could you do this? You know this is wrong!”

“Is it?” she asked, presenting herself as the righteous one trying to make her brother see sense. Dean wouldn’t be surprised to find she was scared – Cas said he shouldn’t have been as powerful as he was after the return, it had probably thrown her off. “Castiel, what we never accepted before is that these humans, they are destroying this beautiful planet! The planet we have watched over for so much of our lives! They are selfish, violent, useless, drooling saps falling prey to their own folly and utter stupidity.” She looked Dean over with pretentious eyes then. “No offense,” she smirked.

“And you’re so much better?” Cas challenged. “Using your powers against innocent people and killing an entire species is selfless? That’s righteous?”

“It’s for the greater good,” she insisted. 

“Bullshit,” Cas growled before Anna could get another word out. “If you honestly believe what you’re saying… they’ve brainwashed you, Anna! The people who want this are murderous, self-serving children throwing a temper tantrum! This has nothing to do with saving the Earth or any other of our father’s creations and you know that, you’ve always known that!”

“So what if it is a little selfish?” Anna shot back. “At least we’ll treat this world right, we’ll nurture it, we’ll-”

“Why can’t you find your own damn planet?” Dean interjected. “What’s wrong with yours? I’ve been to your plane, it can be whatever the hell you want it to be. Why take this one?”

“Because we want it,” Anna answered curtly, her words strong and clear as she whipped her head towards Dean, her hair flying around her head like fanned flames. 

“I can’t let you do this,” Cas growled, stepping forward. Anna flung her hand forward, but nothing happened. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Cas smirked, and suddenly he was behind her, his hands on Mary and Charlie’s shoulders. And then the two were gone, only the chairs left.

“What the hell?” she said, whipping around to face Cas, whose smirk was very much still intact, his eyes dark.

“I met with our father,” he told her, “and he sided with me. He made me stronger than you. You can’t win this, Anna.” She huffed an unimpressed laugh, but Dean could tell she was worried. Good, he thought. Served her right for manipulating and betraying Cas. And trying to destroy the Earth and everything. “Mary and Charlie are safe now. You won’t be able to hurt them.”

“That’s fine,” she said, “someone will get to them in time. All the others are already dead.” She turned to Dean then, a sadistic and victorious grin on her face. Dean’s stomach fell to his feet as her cold eyes burned into his. “What were their names again? There was Aaron, Dorothy, Matt, Jo, Ellen, Bobby… Oh, and Sam and Jess.” Dean felt all of his breath leave him, as if he’d been punched in the stomach and the throat simultaneously. His eyes stung and his face paled.

“You bitch,” Dean growled, though he felt like he was about to be sick. They couldn’t be dead. They couldn’t be. “You’re lying.”

“I’m really not,” she said condescendingly, gleefully even, as she tipped her head toward him, flashing him a mocking pout. “See, while you two were off chasing our deadbeat dad – who, by the way, clearly doesn’t care about this stupid species enough to do anything major to save them – I had plenty of time to kill some people I thought would make a nice example. And believe me,” she drawled, her eyes wild and downright crazy as a feral grin spread across her face, “I took my time.” 

Dean lunged forward with full intentions to punch her in the face, but she twisted her hand up toward herself, and Dean fell to his knees, white hot pain coursing through him. “Maybe I can’t get to Mary and Charlie right now, but I can sure as hell kill your boyfriend,” she barked at Cas, “and make you watch.” Dean looked over to Cas, and he could tell he was in pain, however, he was doing his damnedest to hide it. He felt a stab of guilt knowing that Cas was feeling even a fraction of the pain Dean was in. Anna, sensing Cas’s pain and apparently making the connection, lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, wow,” she said, “you can feel what he’s feeling, can’t you? I mean, maybe not as intensely, but you can feel it. I guess that whole soul-grace meld thing you two pulled off isn’t exactly helping you right now, is it?” she said, and then had the audacity to laugh. “Oh man, this is great.” The pain worsened then, and it was so bad Dean keeled over, letting out a shout as he screwed his eyes shut. He could hear Cas groan through his teeth. He felt like he was being torn in two by a molten metal machine. Blood began bubbling up his throat into his mouth.

But then something hit the wall, and the pain let up. Dean gasped for breath, looking up to see what was happening. “No,” Cas gritted out, his hand facing palm up toward Anna, who was getting up from the floor. “You won’t kill him. You won’t kill any more people.”

“Who’s gonna stop me?” Anna asked. “You might be strong, but you can’t kill me. You don’t have it in you.”

“For Dean?” Cas retorted, “For friends, family? I just might.” Anna laughed at that.

“Family?” she spat back. “Castiel, you have no family.” Dean felt the pain that caused Cas sharply in his chest. “You chose to live as a human over your own family, your own kind. But you still couldn’t let go – no, you still clung to your powers, you came back. Did you really think everything would be okay? That things would be the same? Too much has changed for you to ever be welcomed back there, and you’ve clung to it too much for you to fit in here. You have no family, Cas. No kin, nothing to belong to. There’s truly no one out there for you to relate to, to find kinship with.” Cas clenched his jaw, glaring at her.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, “maybe I am a freak all my own. But I have someone I love, who loves me back. And that’s far more than can be said for you.” Anna rolled her eyes, giggling again.

“So you’re operating on the power of love, then?” she asked. “Well, I guess that always has been your weapon of choice.” She rolled her eyes and smirked. “Good luck with that.” 

And then the pain was back, crippling and all-consuming. Dean fell on his side, curled up in a fetal position, unable to focus on anything but the pain. Breathing also became difficult when more blood travelled up his throat and pooled out of his mouth and onto the floor. The sensation was so sharp and unbearable that he could no longer tell if it was a searing heat or a biting cold. Everything was just a mess of pain, and whenever he came close to passing out from the suffering he was violently brought back to consciousness. 

Dean lost track of time, his mind blurred by pain which was, again, suddenly relieved. 

“Anna,” a vaguely familiar voice called. Dean blinked his eyes open, and though he was still woozy, he was pretty positive that Chuck – all-powerful, all-knowing Creator of the Universe Chuck – was standing in his living room, staring down a crazy ass rogue goddess who may or may not have given Dean stomach cancer. He searched frantically for Cas, finding that both he and Anna looked pretty beat up, and both of them were staring slack jawed at the man (or god, rather) in the center of the room.

“F-father?” she asked, her voice quaking. Dean tried out a small smirk, satisfied to see that she was a lot less cocky once the God of Gods was in the room looking down on her. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, it’s me, Anna,” Chuck said, sounding a lot more like his all-powerful self than he had when Dean and Cas had met with him. His voice was even, clear, and strong, yet calm. It held weight and power, which Anna clearly could tell she was not above. He stepped closer to her, and she almost shrank back. But she stayed right where she was, her eyes wide and never leaving Chuck as he approached. “Daughter… why do you do this?” he asked. “Why do you put these creatures through such pain? Why do you smile as you slaughter them?”

“Father, they’re destroying the planet,” she managed to utter meekly, her voice quiet and unsteady. “We’re trying to protect this beautiful creation of yours.” Chuck shook his head, and Dean gave him props for nailing the whole disappointed father thing.

“No, Anna. That’s not your intent,” Chuck said calmly. “Or at least it’s not your only one. You don’t need to torture innocent people and put them through such horrible pain to save anything.”

“I’m sorry, father,” Anna whispered, “I’m sorry for disappointing you, and for causing such pain. But I can’t apologize for what I believe in.”

“You believe in a flawed idea, child,” Chuck told her. “You fight for an unjust cause that has been sold to you as righteous, as an act in favor of the greater good. But these people you stand with, they don’t care about anyone but themselves. And you know that, you’re smart enough to recognize that. Which means that you simply stopped caring about these creatures, about humanity.”

“They never cared!” Anna argued. “Their entire species is a mistake! They never should have evolved this way! They are flawed and reckless!”

“That’s why you’re supposed to watch over them!” Chuck replied, raising his voice. “You are not supposed to exterminate them, and you are not doing anyone any favors. And who are you to say that evolution made a mistake?” Anna gritted her teeth, her chin out defiantly, but she said nothing. “You are broken, Anna,” Chuck said sadly. “I am so sorry, I wanted to believe that you would find your way back to the right path… but I can’t overlook what you’ve done, what all of you have done.” Anna’s face dropped, her eyes wide with the sadness of an abandoned child.

“Father, what are you saying?” she asked in a weak, scared voice. Dean almost felt bad for her. Almost. 

“You’ve done something terrible. And you all need to be punished for your crimes and wrong doings.” Anna shook her head frantically.

“Father, please!” she begged. “We are not the ones who deserve to be punished! We believe that what we stand for is right!”

“Then you are even more broken than I thought,” Chuck told her. “You are lost and misguided beyond what I could hope to fix.”

“What about Castiel?” she demanded. Dean wanted to intervene, to come to Cas’s defense, but he knew it wasn’t a good time to be interrupting. He looked across the room at Cas, whose face was rather unreadable. The emotions Dean was receiving were too muddled to sort through. “He was the first to rebel! He started all of this!”

“Castiel’s problem was that he loved humanity too much,” Chuck countered. “There’s nothing malicious about that or any of his intentions. Castiel set an example, but you all twisted and corrupted the message that his example sent. This is not about him, and it is not his fault. Please, Anna, take responsibility for your actions.” Anna seemed embarrassed by that, which made Dean grin, because he was petty as hell and she deserved to be put in her place. Chuck stepped up to her then, cradling her face in his hand. Her jaw remained clenched obstinately, but her wide, watery eyes betrayed her. “I’m sorry, Anna. I hate to do this; I had more faith in you.”

A bright light began spilling from Anna, an unbearable sight that was accompanied by a high pitched ringing noise that only got louder as the light got brighter. Dean shut his eyes and covered his ears with his hands, and while it helped some, the experience was still not enjoyable by any measure. But, mercifully, it was over soon enough. 

Dean tentatively opened his eyes and held himself up by his elbows, finding only Cas and Chuck in the room. He sat up, feeling infinitely better than before; there was no burn or pull or ache anywhere, and no longer any blood in his mouth, nor on the floor. He found that Cas also seemed to be in better shape, and he was rushing over to Dean, who gladly let Cas fall to his knees and gather him in his arms. Dean no longer felt like a combusting star, but he was still a bit worn from the pain he’d experienced. 

“So you showed,” Dean said, his voice rough and a little croaky. Chuck nodded.

“What changed your mind?” Cas asked, rubbing Dean’s shoulder and holding him protectively into himself. Dean normally would’ve been embarrassed by the blatant and shameless PDA, but right then he needed it, and he relished it. Chuck’s eyes glanced them over.

“You did, actually,” he admitted. “I realized you were right. While humans are flawed, they do try to do their best a lot of the time. Sure, they can be mindless and hateful, but they can also achieve great things, invent things that propel societies and civilizations.” He looked at them meaningfully then. “And they can love. And when they do that, they can do great things for one another. Families, friends, good people… soft serve ice cream. There’s a lot to save down here that deserves a better chance.” Dean and Cas exchanged meaningful smiles in response to that, then turned grateful eyes to Chuck. 

“Thank you,” Cas said earnestly. Chuck nodded, grinning modestly.

“Hey, uh,” Dean began, “I am really grateful for you saving the planet and helping us out and everything, but um…”

“Your friends are all fine,” Chuck assured him. “They’re a bit shaken, but they’re alive and well.”

“So Anna didn’t actually kill them?” Dean asked. Chuck deflated a bit, looking at him with regretful, apologetic eyes.

“She did,” he confirmed. “But I wiped their minds of the bad parts. They should be okay with some time.” Dean nodded, sitting up further and burrowing himself more into Cas, gripping the fabric of his coat in his fingers. 

“I’ll give you two some space,” Chuck told them. “But Castiel, I’d like to talk to you when you’re ready.” Cas nodded, and then Chuck was gone. 

Dean started crying then. He couldn’t really pinpoint a reason or tell if they were tears of relief or horror. He figured they were probably a mix of both, as well as other things. He buried his face in Cas’s chest, and Cas’s arms were strong and comforting around him as his hands rubbed soothing strokes across his back. “Shh,” Cas soothed him, pressing a kiss to his hair. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Everyone’s okay now. It’s all gonna be okay.” 

 

The reunions were tearful, and there were lots of hugs involved. Everyone was still very shaken up, but they were grateful to be alive and together. Dean and Mary spent about an hour alone in Cas’s backyard after dinner while Jo, Matt, Charlie, Dorothy, Aaron, and Cas socialized in the living room. Dean also spent a significant amount of time with Charlie, his arm around her small, shaking frame as they talked. He spent at least two hours on the phone with Jess and Sam. 

It was well past eleven once almost everyone had left, Jo and Matt the only two left. Dean and Cas were cleaning up side by side in the kitchen while Matt and Jo were helping to clean up the living room (against Dean’s and Cas’s insistence that they didn’t have to). “So, you gonna go talk to Chuck now?” Dean asked. Cas sighed.

“I should,” he agreed. But turning to Dean, his eyes were flooded with concern. “But I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dean assured him, but he even he wasn’t convinced by what he was preaching.

“We’ll stay with him until you get back, Cas,” Jo’s voice came from the doorway. Cas opened his mouth, but Jo cut him off before he could get a word out. “Yes, we’re sure. Do what you gotta do.”

“Really, I’m fine,” Dean told her. “You and Matt should get some rest.”

“We’ll sleep on your couch if we have to, but we’re not leaving you alone,” she stated definitively, her warm brown eyes softening. “None of us should be alone tonight.” 

Dean finally acquiesced, and Cas went off to talk with Chuck. Dean, Jo, and Matt sat together in the living room watching Food Network shows. Not much conversation was made, and Matt eventually dozed off on Jo’s shoulder. Jo followed him quickly into unconsciousness, and Dean was left to see who won the final course on that episode of Chopped.

Cas reappeared in the living room right as a new episode was starting and helped Dean make sure Jo and Matt were awake enough to drive themselves back across town. 

Dean didn’t ask about the conversation until they were showered and curled up in bed. “So?” he asked. “What did Chuck wanna talk about?”

“He wanted to make arrangements for us,” Cas answered, running his fingers through Dean’s hair gently. “He said I could keep the powers I had before, when I fell…” He trailed off then and pulled back so that he was looking Dean in the eye, his smile visible even in the dark. “But he also said I would age naturally, without using my powers to change my appearance.” Dean let that sink in for a minute. He’d thought briefly about Cas’s aging process before, but he never got the chance to ask about it. He let out a small huff of laughter.

“So that’s good, right?” Dean asked. 

“That’s very good,” Cas agreed. “That way I won’t outlive you. I’ll die as you will die. He also said that when that time comes, we will both be rewarded greatly.”

“Dude, seriously?” Dean beamed, overwhelmed by how quickly and drastically things had changed from imminent death to an afterlife of luxury. Cas nodded, his smile matching Dean’s.

“Although, I’m not very concerned with that at the moment,” he grinned, kissing Dean deeply. Dean leaned into it eagerly, caressing Cas’s jaw. “I’m very content to just focus on the present right now,” he whispered once they’d pulled apart.

“Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
